House of Drawn Shades
by Darkwing731
Summary: Sequel to the October Hollow. A girl is smuggled through the midst of a brewing war, raised to be the ultimate defender and the undying killer. When she finds her inevitable limits, how can she take back the life she used to have? TNxOC, eventual DMHG.
1. The Interview: Part One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. (But I wish I did.)

I do own a few people from the last story though! Cassidy Valeska, and Troy and Lucifer Malfoy. When you meet the other group, I'll introduce you! I do also own two new people! Lilith Hermione and Damien Benjamin!

**Attention: **If you haven't read _The October Hollow_ I would advise not reading this. However, because _October Hollow_ is being revamped and redone, the story isn't done very far, so reading this would spoil some things, but not a lot. I can still have fun with the suspense and all. **It _is_ alright to read this if you're sick of the wait for the other.**

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**Summary: **Sequel to_ The October Hollow: A Harvest Moon. _Her life had always been worse than that of a prisoner's, and always would be. A tale of deception, pain, lust, love, and a deadly mystery about one girl who's secret explained it all... M for later chapters.

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**Chapter summary: **The woman, who has been through so much in her life, schedules an interview with her cousin that she hasn't seen in over fifteen years...and couldn't remember at all. The beginning to the long story of confusion and mystery and pain... and the people that brought it upon her.

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Also, the time frame in this chapter is towards the end of the story, and the next chapter is going to be a LONG time ago. You could almost say that this is the FUTURE, (because, wudda ya know, it is!) and just something to start us off and branch off from.

**Also**, all of you know that by now, the main character of this story will be one of my own **original characters** and not someone we've met in the books of _Harry Potter_, so if you have a problem with that, don't read this.

Now LETS BEGIN!

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731  
-**  
((--Prologue--))  
The Interview: Part 1

-

_**2006**_

It was an unusually overcast day as the sun hid behind the clouds in an attempt to shield itself completely from the people bustling to and fro on the streets below. Frequently, shadows were cast over random people, and the sunlit streets became as dark as Knockturn Alley during some parts of the day. The resentful gossip of the mothering witches was heard clearly by the passing people.

The clouds parted again and a strong ray of sun descended upon the people, causing everything to brighten up considerably. People smiled and went about their work happily. The sun continued to blossom on them as if it were the hottest day of summer, and nothing, not even a solid concrete wall, could distinguish its light.

And yet, soon enough the clouds cleverly moved slowly in their place and engulfed the sunlight, sending people into scowls and openly hoping that the sun was still out. Most of them wanted the bright sunny days that had been accompanying them on their daily shopping along with the breezy weather. But today was not an agreeable day. The clouds rumbled quietly, and all at once opened up for the world to see in a drenching shower of thick, cold rain.

Almost immediately, mist was rising from the ground and the stench of the damp earth rose up like an eerie fog over a marsh. The pounding rain poured over the ground and filled the cracks of the cobblestone street and the badly boarded-up windows of some closed down shops.

The shopping witches and wizards of Diagon Alley hastily fled the streets and scurried inside shops for shelter, and perhaps a nice cup of tea with a shot of Firewhiskey to warm them up.

The rain continued to pour, heavier and heavier, louder and colder than before, and washed away any hope that the sun would survive the day. The few stragglers outside either hurried inside or completely left Diagon Alley altogether, hoping that the next day would be a good one to rejoice and go shopping again.

If anyone had noticed that the archway to Diagon Alley had opened, it would've been a miracle for the street was silently deserted. Not a single living soul would've been able to spot the woman that slowly walked forward as the archway closed behind her; the bricks moving magically into place and sealing her into the world of Magic and Unicorns and spells, a place where almost anything could happen.

The woman standing mere feet from the closed archway was in her mid-twenties, married but separated from her husband (and for good reason), and currently standing hesitantly as the rain steadily soaked through her clothes that soon enough deprived her of all heat. She swayed on the spot, a sense of foreboding washing over her.

She was wearing a thick navy blue cloak that contrasted perfectly with her eyes. Under that was a tight fitting, boat-neck blood red shirt that stopped at her forearms. She wore a black wool jumper over it that fell past her fingertips fashionably. Her skirt was black too, also made of wool, but lambs wool instead of a matured material like her jumper was. Thin ebony tights and kitten heeled trainers (the newest thing) held her up. She liked the difference in warmth and found her body was quite comfortable with the clothing she was wearing.

The woman's eyes swept over the drenched street, looking for any sign of life before taking a few steps forward. She remembered the last time she was here, and the outcome wasn't pretty. She didn't want to relive it again.

_But he's dead_, she assured herself. He was gone, she had been there, and even if she screamed out her name and what she was, he wouldn't have been able to pop out of a rubbish bin and hurt her again.

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she stood completely stationary on the spot. Her long, midnight black hair hung limply to her elbows because of the rain. Strands of the black tresses stuck to her cheek and face, and she tucked them securely behind her ears.

Breathing hard, her face pale and her cheeks flushing, the woman's stormy blue eyes checked again for any sign of life. She wrapped her cloak protectively around her voluptuous figure, biting her dark, unblemished lip. Rain dripped down her forehead and clung to her thick eyelashes that rimmed her beautiful eyes.

Making her decision, Cassidy gulped in air and made a wild dash down the street.

Rain lashed at her face and her hair flew out like a fan behind her, strands drenched in water and still sticking stubbornly to her forehead. She let go of her cloak and wildly pumped her arms as she sprinted down the street, breathing heavily through her nose and an anxious look on her porcelain face. Her cheeks flushed at the work and her heart hammered against her ribcage.

She forgot to jump any puddles that may have formed as she fled down Diagon Alley, past the many shops with people pressing their noses against the glass and watching her run by. Her expensive shoes clacked against the cobblestones and sent a wave of rain splashing in a tsunami-like fashion over her skirt and cloak, some droplets even managing to hit her face.

And then, finally, it was over.

In a heart-stopping moment, she skidded to a halt outside a little teashop near the end of the Alley. It just so happened to be right at the beginning of Knockturn Alley, in which she knew so well. The reporter surely wouldn't mind coming down this far, would she?

Cassidy pushed open the door apprehensively. A little bell jingled, causing several couples and customers to look up at the arriver and then back down to their meals and drinks that occupied their time until the rain stopped. A few single men eyed her clothing suggestively, and she quickly wrapped her cloak around her curvy figure and glared at them. They hastened to go back to their meal.

She made her way to an empty table across the room and sat down, taking off her cloak and hanging it on the peg. Sure, she had been in here once with her husband on a short day trip (which ended fairly quickly due to an unfortunate visitor), but she still felt scared being there, as if _he_ would suddenly walk in the door, spot her, and drag her out and beat her again for entering such a place alone and easily seen.

But Cassidy told herself quite firmly that she was able to handle herself and that she wouldn't harm anybody if she didn't interact. He h had no reason to harm her anymore if she knew what she was doing, which she did. She had for quite some time now. She had to be able to control herself after all those gruesome and brutal years with him, or else she wouldn't be where she was today. No, Cassidy was proud to say that her powers were easily manageable.

Or at least when she had control of her own emotions.

"Can I get you anything?" a waitress in a black dress and a crimson smock inquired warmly. She appeared to be in her late thirties; her nametag read _Sharon._

Cassidy hesitated. "Er, just a cup of tea with cream and sugar, please," she said politely. She decided she would have that only; a cup of tea wasn't too much to have.

"No problem, m'dear," Sharon said, and then after writing it down on a green-lined notepad with a feathery quill, turned and walked back off to the counter.

Cassidy observed the place quietly, tucking her freezing cold hands between her knees and sitting erectly. She made sure that she drew no attention to herself. The shop was based entirely on Muggle ideas. Cassidy guessed that the café owner wanted something new in the Wizarding World.

The shop was cozy, with a warm atmosphere and an inviting menu that had promising prices. When one walked in, the door there was a long bar table with a glossy top and old-fashion stools adorning it. Against the left walls were booths with red cushions and pegs to hold cloaks and jumpers. The booths varied from sizes small enough to fit one on each side to sitting five on each side.

The floor was a customary black-and-white checkered pattern with round, dimmed lights and large shop windows at the front of the store as if advertising its overall attractiveness. The window was currently fogged, shadowed figures walking across the glass occasionally. Cassidy guessed that the rain had finally lightened up enough for people to emerge on the streets once again.

The sisterly-looking waitress came back with a round, deep cup full of steaming, rich tea, perhaps with grains of sugar sticking to the side while the rest of them had simply dissolved in seconds and sweetened the tea completely. Cassidy thanked the woman, and put down the cup on its saucer for a moment before wrapping her freezing hands around it and sipping it cautiously.

The rich, warm liquid was hot enough that it warmed the palms of her hands as she held the cup carefully. When she swallowed, the warmth seeped through her veins and slowly started spreading down her fingertips, and a faint smile crossed her lips.

Five minutes later, the sugared dregs of the tea lay still at the bottom. Her heart pulsed normally, and her body was warm but slowly getting cold again due to her wet clothes. She longed to dry them with a simple spell, but she knew she couldn't. It wasn't like she wasn't allowed (well she wasn't, actually according to him) but she didn't have a wand and performing wandless magic (again) would draw attention to herself, and a scene would quickly start.

But even so, she was determined to do it discreetly. Raising her arms, her fists clenched, Cassidy yawned, closing her eyes and letting her muscles relax. She then put her fingertips at her hairline and ran her fingers through her hair, making sure that she caught every strand of jet-black hair and every small curl that passed like silk between her fingertips. As she released her long locks, she smiled in satisfaction. Her hair was dry.

She reached down under the table and covered her shoe with both hands; the effect was instant: her shoe was dry. She held her other foot and the same thing happened. Smiling, she ran her hands up her legs all the way to her thighs, one at a time, until her stockings were dry and her long, slender legs were warm again. Casting a careful look around the room to make sure no one was watching her, she ran her hands over her skirt, catching little threads between her fingers and poking her fingertips into the occasional hole.

Then, she moved on to her jumper, but decided to take it off first and do it. When she pulled off her black sweater, however, her curvy torso was revealed. She once again caught the attention of the few single men in the shop who were shamelessly staring at her wet shirt, which clung to her bust, and, although she blushed, she gave them angry looks. They grudgingly went back to whatever they were doing, but not without shooting her eager and hopeful looks, all of which she scowled upon. She was back with someone; she didn't need men hitting on her again.

But now Cassidy knew that if she ran her hands over her stomach and breasts, it would not go unnoticed by these men. She therefore decided (and wondered why she didn't think of it before) to go into the Ladies' lavatory and dry her clothes in there. She left her cloak on the peg, got up and left, and was momentarily gone before she came back in less than five minutes.

Her jumper and shirt were now dry thankfully, and she now wanted to fix her cloak but she doubted it would truly matter. If the interview were long enough (which she _knew_ it would be), then her cloak would dry out by then.

She entertained herself for a while by tracing the brim of the teacup. She kept her arm on the table, but made sure that her elbow never touched the surface. It was against the morals nailed into her to have her elbow on the table. A lot of things were against the morals that she firmly followed (as if she had a choice). She wasn't sure how she remembered all of them and managed to do them all within a day's time without forgetting something.

Just then, the door clicked open and a catchy little jingle rang through the café. Cassidy looked up at the person standing there, and almost as if someone had put a match to her finger, she felt a slight shock that disappeared almost instantly.

A vivacious-looking woman stood at the door, looking around at the occupants of the café and wondering who she was looking for. She had long, flaming red hair that lay limp on her shoulders from the rain (which apparently was still coming) and she had a slim figure and curious chocolate brown eyes. Her long face was flushed as her eyebrows creased while her eyes skimmed the customers. She had a corduroy bag slung over her shoulder and was clutching it almost protectively. Cassidy could see the stains on the bag that she knew were from the rain. A diamond winked at her from the woman's left hand. She was as tall, if not taller, than Cassidy herself.

And then the woman's eyes landed on Cassidy, and the chocolate irises lit up in hopeful recognition as she made her way to the booth slowly. Cassidy noted her fashion sense (another moral nailed right in there with the rest of them); she had a dark cream skirt that fell to her knees with mahogany boots that went halfway up her calves. She, like Cassidy, had a blood red shirt on, though it fell a little past her fingertips and clung to her hands and neck.

Her boots clicked against the checkered floor.

"Hello, are you—?" she asked.

"Yes," Cassidy interrupted.

The girl smiled, relieved, and sat down across from Cassidy and fished around in her corduroy bag.

"I'm Ginevra Potter, but you can just call me Ginny." The woman smiled at Cassidy, still fishing in her bag for something.

"Pleasure," Cassidy said with an almost blasé dullness.

"Ah," Ginny said at last. She pulled out a black box thing with buttons on it. "Found it!"

"And what exactly _is_ that?" Cassidy asked curiously. Ginny smirked, reminding Cassidy instantly of someone else.

"This, Cassie, is a tape recorder. Alright, it's a Muggle rip-off, but the Ministry of Magic had them magically altered for Wizarding purposes and finds them _extremely_ useful," Ginny explained enthusiastically.

Quirking an eyebrow, Cassidy said, "Interesting."

Ginny laughed. "I sound like my father; he's all hyped up about Muggle things, too. Oh well. Let's get started, shall we?" Ginny asked. Cassidy nodded.

The redhead lifted the box onto the table and put it exactly between them. She pushed a little green button and there was a soft grinding sound that was barely audible. Ginny flashed a smile at Cassidy before starting to talk.

"This is Ginevra Potter, AIT and Auror Reporter. The date is January 21, 2006. I'm reporting the life story of Cassidy Neona—"

"Valeska," Cassidy cut in. Ginny frowned at her.

"But aren't you married to—"

"Yes, but this and that happened, and he agreed to let me go by my maiden name until we get back together again," Cassie said, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

Her eyebrows creased, Ginny said, "Why? What happened?"

"Oh, well I assume you'll find out in time. I've got quite a long story to tell, and you'll find out," Cassie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Alright, then. I'm going to start by asking you a few questions." Cassidy n nodded and folded her hands on the table, lacing her fingers together. Her hair fell over her shoulder and lay in soft curls that hung over her breast.

"Date of birth?" Ginny asked, taking out a clipboard and quill and setting it on the table.

"September, 1979," Cassidy said lightly. Ginny scribbled it down, and then, her eyebrows raised, looked back up expectantly.

When Cassie remained silent, Ginny spoke. "What day?" she asked.

Cassie tucked a tendril of her black curls behind her ears before answering. "I never found out," she said with a mysterious smile.

"Really, now?" Ginny asked dubiously.

"_Really_."

"Alright...I guess I can find out from my Mum. Parents' names?" Ginny asked, scribbling something quickly on the piece of paper.

"Hesper Sylwia, which was her maiden name, and Eryk Valeska." Ginny scribbled it down.

"And their dates of birth?"

"I never knew," Cassidy said quietly, tracing the brim of her coffee cup again. Ginny stopped writing and looked up at her, her eyes narrowed.

"In...in the accident, I lost my memory completely. I forgot who everyone was. I wouldn't have been able to recognize my parents even if they were alive." Cassidy avoided Ginny's eyes completely.

"Well...that's all right. I can have Mum get their birthdays, too. You know, Cassie, we're cousins." Ginny sounded sad but hopeful, as if she were trying to insinuate something.

"Yeah, I know," Cassie said, looking at her. Her eyes were unusually dim.

"So," Ginny said after a moment. "Any children?"

Cassie smiled. "Yes, two."

"And their names and dates of birth?"

"Lilith Hermione and Damien Benjamin. Lilith was born on August 16, 2001, and Damien was born on October 19, 2002." Cassie smiled reminiscently as she thought of her children.

"Lilith...I've got a little girl named Lily, after my husband's mother. She's the sweetest thing. Do you call her Lily?" Ginny asked.

"No, we — my husband and I, that is — call her Calla, for a type of lily, you know?" Cassidy explained. Ginny looked simply delighted.

"How sweet! And what about Damien?"

"Oh, we just call him Ben. We argued about it for a while, but settled on his middle name for his nickname." Cassie twirled a lock of hair around her finger, smiling.

"That's nice. Can I ask you something? I mean, more personal than what I've been asking so far?"

"Oh, go ahead."

"Why is Calla's middle name Hermione?"

Cassidy hesitated as she thought back for a moment, and then smiled.

"I love Shakespeare," she said softly. "And in _A Winter's Tale_, I found the name and loved it. And it's in Greek Mythology, too. Both my husband and I have a thing for Mythology. It's weird, actually."

"Oh," said Ginny quietly, looking down at the table. Her hand was still, and there was a remorseful look on her face.

"I know it seems weird," Cassie said quietly, "but that was before I knew...what happened."

Ginny didn't bother answering. She kept her eyes on the table.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them where Cassidy kept her eyes on Ginny, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Err...well, shall we get started then?" Ginny said after a tense moment.

"Sure, I—"

"Can I get you anything?"

The waitress came over again and was looking kindly down at Ginny, who looked blankly at her for a moment before ordering the same thing as Cassidy did. Ginny shook her head and mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously liked "perfect bloody timing" before she resumed her usual demeanor and smiled at Cassie almost shyly.

"Getting back," Ginny said, and she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, waitresses these days have the absolute worst bloody timing!" she said almost angrily. Cassidy smirked.

"I guess," she agreed politely. Ginny put a hand to her forehead for a moment before lowering it and letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Now let's _really_ get started," Ginny said, and she chuckled to herself. Cassidy remained silent for a moment.

"Ginny," she said softly, and the redhead looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"A lot of the things I'm going to tell you are against the Wizarding and Muggle laws. Some of the things my husband, my Father-in-Law, and I have done are all Azkaban worthy. I just want to ask you to wait until I'm done talking to take me in to Azkaban, if you're going to. And I know this tape is going straight to the Aurors, too, but I just would like you to wait if you can. I'm not the type of person to run, and I'd go willingly. But please, just wait."

Ginny gazed at her, her eyes transfixed in astonishment.

"Worthy in what way?" she asked in a whisper. Cassidy smiled sadly and lowered her eyes to the empty teacup.

"Every way," she murmured, closing her eyes. "Every _single_ way."

Ginny reached out and touched her hand, and Cassie looked up at the redhead. She had a compassionate look on her face, and Ginny smiled slightly.

"Cass, even if I haven't really seen you since before I went off to Hogwarts, and even if you've grown up with — _them_, I wouldn't bring you in. And I know I'm wrong in saying so, but I know you too well to assume the worst of you. So let's just...let's just get this over with. If anyone, I'd bring in that wretched Father-in-Law of yours to Azkaban if he ever gets out of Saint Mungo's. I hear he's a real jerk."

"_Jerk_ is a bit of an understatement, Ginny," Cassidy laughed. "I would _definitely_ say that's an understatement." Cassidy smiled, but she looked grim. "And I don't think he'll be getting out any time soon," she said, sounding slightly ominous. "The attack was pretty bad."

"I guess so; you know him better than I do," Ginny admitted, and she picked up her cup of tea as the waitress set it back down. She smiled as the drink started to warm her.

"Sadly," Cassie replied quietly. She was staring at her cup again.

Ginny put away her clipboard and put it in her bag, and pulled out a wad of paper. Her quill was in a little side clip and Ginny pulled it out, poising the quill on the parchment.

"Let's really start now," Ginny said, writing something down already. "Now, where are you going to begin, though? It's sometimes important where one starts."

"I guess…" Cassie said thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. "I guess I'll start at the beginning; after the accident, that is."

"Always a good place to commence," Ginny said brightly. She scribbled something else on the paper.

"But..." Cassie paused, an odd look on her face. Ginny stopped writing and looked at her sharply.

"I have a hard time remembering the beginning at all."

**_-  
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-_**

**A/N: **Well, there's your first chapter! I really hoped you liked it! I'm sorry how it ended, it was quite weird and I didn't know how to end it properly.

Just to clarify things: this chapter is set in 2006. The next chapter will begin right where the last story left off, November 1998, the New Trio's Seventh year (Sixth for Ginny). The story will steadily work up to this chapter called _The Interview_, which takes place a long time after Cassie begins her story.

ALSO! I just want to say that there will be little **in-between** chapters where it will be Cassie and Ginny during the interview, probably named _The Interview: Part 2_ or whatever part it is. The between chapters will be a lot later, you'll see what I mean later.

This chapter it confusing, and aren't you all dying to know who Cassie's husband is? Actually, you probably aren't, but you may be! Take a guess, but I won't answer it. –Smiles-.

A big thanks to **Kels** for betaing this for me! You rock!

**Please review!**


	2. The Eternal Nightmare

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, but just a few other characters. Like before, I own Cassidy Valeska and those two other mentioned people, Lilith Hermione and Damien Benjamin. I do also own Troy and Lucifer Malfoy, some people you'll see a lot later on. Oh, and purely just in this chapter, I own Joshua, Travis and Hadrian, and that's it. No last names, nothing.

This story is going to go back into 1998, the Trio's seventh year (sixth for Ginny), and it focuses completely on Cassidy before the "accident." I have yet to decide if I'm going to explain it in here or not, (probably will, knowing me. I just like to contradict myself a lot). It focuses mainly _after_ the accident, but a great deal of it is described in the memory.

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**Chapter Summary:** The eternal nightmare plagued her every sleeping moment until she could finally breathe in the glorious air. It stung her lungs and snatched her back to reality, only for her to find that the nightmare...had really happened.

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**Just one note: **The majority of the italics are Cassidy's accident/memory. The italics within the regular font are, obviously, Cassidy's thoughts. Just thought you'd like to know.

So, I think that it's only appropriate that we START!

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731  
-**  
((--Chapter One--))  
The Eternal Nightmare

-

_**October, 1998**_

There was hardly any light at all filtering through her nightmares; the only thing penetrating the darkness was the excruciating pain crashing over her in horrible tremors. Blinding heat rippled through her skin, seeping down through her veins and washing through her blood. Her back arched again for the millionth time that night, and she let out a heart-wrenching scream.

_"Hadrian, RUN! They're here! Someone stop them!"_

Awful bile rose in her throat; the earlier liquid that had been forced down her throat making her sick. She coughed, and tears splashed down her face as a painful wail escaped her chapped, cut lips. She let out a shuddering sob, and started screaming again as her skin changed, transforming slowly. The pain conquered every inch of the pale porcelain complexion of her body. Staggering pain consumed her; a dagger-like pain punctured her left arm and she struggled, screaming and gasping for air. Her lungs were fighting for oxygen, but she couldn't breathe. Her whole body was changing.

_"Travis, didn't I say this would happen?" There was a blinding crash and a scream from the stairwell. _

_"NO! Joshua! They killed him! Someone please help us!"_

_Travis lunged for her and tackled her to the ground as the door slammed open, and the murdering Death Eaters stormed into the room, followed by a sea of green light. _

Agony like she had never imagined slowly piled up inside of her. Her blood was white-hot, a pain so intense her body was on fire. Suddenly, she was racked with a stabbing feeling over every inch of her body. She struggled against her restraints, screaming, her back arching and sending her nearly a foot off of the crimson sheets on the bed. Her wrists went red and raw as she unconsciously fought the binding ropes. She had to get away.

Blood trickled out of her mouth, pouring out of her nose and sticking to her skin and neck. The already red sheets gained an even more scarlet hue that would forever remain stained. Her fists clenched and unclenched. Abruptly, like an internal disease, a fire was started within her and pain like she could never remember, never imagine, flowed through her like the hellish flames of the underworld. Her body trembled, her skin rippling and her body screaming for air. But it wasn't finished yet.

_"Oh God...oh God..."_

_"WHERE IS SHE?"_

_"She's gone! She left! I swear to God she isn't here!"_

_"CASSIDY VALESKA!"_

_"She's left!"_

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

_Travis crumpled to the ground after the blinding spell hit him. Cassidy foolishly jumped from her Death-Eater-free haven, screamed, and collapsed at his side, sobbing. _

_"No...no! TRAVIS!"_

_"Idiot girl!" The Death Eater roared with laughter. "See what you've done? You've killed him, you worthless piece of filth!"_

_"No! You killed him! I never did it! I was—"_

_"You just as well killed him!"_

_"That's a lie!" _

_But tears streamed down her face anyways; she knew it had been her fault. _

Her throat was closing up. Her chest was hurting and the pounding of her heart was incredibly loud. _Let it stop..._ Her face was screwed up in agony as she felt a fresh tremor attack her body, washing over her until the pain was so intense she couldn't gather enough breath to scream. Her body thrashed uselessly, and gasping, she screaming out, slowly ending in a wail for help that was incoherent.

Gradually, it subsided; the blinding pain that had engulfed her whole body for as long as time had started slowly diminished. She felt the stabbing pain in all of her body reduce to a vicious throb that still resided in her body, in every single one of her nerves, pounding behind her temples and sending shocking pain through her head just as the last of the torturous heat had left it. She could almost see the lightning flashing behind her eyes, fighting her mind and beating it to death.

Her body slowly stopped fighting; she lay still on the bed, panting, blood sticking to her hair and neck and face like a crimson flower in intricate patterns. Her fingers curled into a fist and her knuckles turned white. Her legs coiled awkwardly underneath her, demanding she stretch the long-forgotten muscles. Boiling blood cautiously pumped through her veins, bringing her slowly back to life and letting her body relax freely. She let out a soft moan, her lungs breathing in fresh new air and helping her circulation continue even faster.

Her body hurt incredibly. Her insides were throbbing and felt like white-hot coals had just been removed from her skin. Her skin prickled unpleasantly as the new pain registered itself in her mind and she slowly felt it come back, though not as bad as before. Somehow this was new; was it second class, or something completely different?

_"Let go! STOP! LET GO OF ME!"_

_"See those people over there, Valeska? Do you recognize them, you filthy little—?" _

_"Leave them alone!" They were her parents; nothing bad could happen to them; no harm could come to their souls._

_"Oh, **I'll** leave them alone." The white twisted, gnarled mask of the Death Eater leered at her. She could sense the bastard was smirking at her._

"Imperio!"

_Suddenly she was consumed by complete bliss. Everything around her was non-existent, nothing mattered anymore. All she knew, all she could hear, could see, could sense, was the sweet voice beckoning to her._

**_Kill them..._**

_She wanted to obey. She knew it was what needed to happen._

_Onlookers screamed in utter fear as they watched the horrifying scene before them. The girl, clad in a silvery-blue uniform, slowly rose off the ground. Her toes fell and brushed the floor with her black-heeled shoes. Her left arm extended, her fingertips were trembling and outstretched. Her midnight black hair flowed behind her like rippling water. Her eyes aglow with an eerie white light, a silver aura pulsed around her and, sending waves of people down onto the floor, added to the mass of deceased littered in groups of the foyer. _

_Suddenly green light flew from her fingertips. A shrill whistle was emitted as the Green Death traveled, people scrambling and falling before it hit its target. A tall black-haired woman and a broad-shouldered man fell to the floor. The black-cloaked Death Eaters roared with delighted, malicious laughter._

_Her body fell to the ground from a sudden strong pulse of the mysterious aura. It crumpled beneath her and pain washed over her. Her knees ached and she felt like she had been cuffed harshly over the head with a particularly heavy object. _

_Her eyes filled with unwanted tears. She looked up. Her pupils suddenly widened in spite of the bright green light hitting the hundreds of screaming people around her. She could hear nothing regardless of the mass chaos and murder in front of her._

_All she could see was the dead bodies of the familiar faces that she had grown up beside:_

_Her parents._

Another moan escaped her lips, and sweat trickled over her forehead and down her neck, leaving a trail of white skin through the thickly coated blood. The fresh crimson liquid slowly replenished itself and there was no mark of the perspiration that had traveled through it.

Every pore in her body was suddenly drenched in sweat, and a cold clammy feeling overtook her. The crimson sheets, already stained in blood, were now adorned with sweat as well. It seeped through her clothes and the sheets cocooning her absorbed the new liquid. Beads of it were falling gracefully over the arch of her neck and shoulders before they dropped off onto the elegant bed.

Her fingers clenched and unclenched again. Her breathing was fast and shallow, coming in short, ragged gasps that stung her throat. Her lungs demanded even more oxygen than before, but she could not oblige. Her body wasn't working properly; she felt as if she had no control over herself as she struggled to regain consciousness and see for herself what was wrong with her.

"_Mum...oh God, Mum..." _

_Tears trailed down her cheeks. Cassidy started crawling awkwardly for her parents before an excruciating kick to the ribs sent her tumbling over, her ribcage blossoming in fiery pain._

_"You foolish little girl! You think you can get away from me?" _

_The Death Eater was extremely angry with her. His voice was hoarse and had the edge that implied barely-controlled rage. She let out a sob and clawed the floor in an attempt to drag herself to her parents._

_"Dad...please, Dad, don't be dead..."_

_Suddenly, painful neon lights erupted in front of her eyes as the sharp kick to her stomach brought her reluctantly back to the reality in front of her. The hell that she was living in, the torture she could never escape, was now a horrifying reality._

_"Stupid little girl! _Stupefy

_Blackness consumed her and that was all she ever knew._

But now the pain was different. The horrible, stabbing feeling had finally left her body and a low throb occupied every nerve now. The former liquid shoved down her throat suddenly started rising again. She felt like vomiting and getting the horrible substance out of her body.

She clamped her eyes tighter still, and tried willing the horrible pain away. Her whole body felt as if it had been consumed by white-hot fire. Her head was pounding, painful and burning, and incoherent, confusing thoughts whizzed through her mind before she even had the time to grasp the mere concept of them. Her body started shaking violently, and suddenly, she was lurching and she felt the horrible substance in her stomach come up. It then forced itself back into her stomach, making her sicker.

All she wanted to do was get away from the horrible pain, but there was no escaping it. Her body naturally tried to curl into the fetal position but the ropes binding her wouldn't allow it. Thick tears fell fast down her cheeks, smearing over the blood and washing some of the scarlet hue away from her skin. Her blood seeped, molten hot and fierce, through her veins, while rage built in her throat and she felt as if she wanted to scream at some non-existent person. She squirmed in the bed, sobbing, fighting the restraints as the single onlooker in the room watched in fear.

Ennervate

_And suddenly, she was quite awake. Cassidy opened her eyes, groaning, and pain blossomed all over her and dimmed to a low throb through her body and she started sobbing all over again._

_She was in impenetrable darkness, and she felt hands groping her body, accompanied by malicious laughter and seemingly drunken yells. She thrashed about, screaming, trying to worm her way free from the cruel and molesting pairs of hands that were wandering her body, but she couldn't move._

_"Enough! Get away from her! The Dark Lord says to bring her straight to him!" _

_Cassidy recognized that it was the voice that had made her murder her own parents. Fury engulfed her mind and senses, and she started screaming as she was picked up. The laughter and yells quieted, but she refused to._

_Kicking and squirming still, she vaguely heard a yell in response to her screaming, but could do nothing about it. She wailed louder in hopes that the caller would help her._

_The Death Eaters dragged her over rocky earth where sharp rocks jutted out from the ground beneath her, scraping and scarring her skin. She flailed her momentarily free arms before a sharp kick to her already-fractured ribs caught her screaming and struggling uselessly against the pain. _

_Her eyes suddenly grew aware that she could dimly see figures moving to and fro constantly on a sort of mountain cliff that was across the earthy path she was being dragged on. She could see the flames of a violent bonfire dancing high up into the air like a free spirit. _

_Abruptly, she was engulfed in the darkness of the night. A pair of strong hands grabbed the collar of her shirt from the back, and a second later she was thrown into a wall. The collision caused her to slide back into the unconsciousness she had come to know so well lately. _

Sweat trickled down her neck and between her breasts. Every inch of her was covered in the cold perspiration as the haunting nightmares took hold of her, threatening to never let go. She tossed her head, breathing shallowly. Her hair stuck to her cheek and forehead as the fever grew higher, causing her to dive into delirium.

But the sickness would have to wait, for something else had to work its magic upon her.

Not for the first time that night, her fingers clenched and left shallow marks in her palms where blood slowly came to surface into the air. Her toes curled, and she yelled out in agony. Her body was still shaking violently, slowly climaxing to the worst of the oncoming pain.

Her stomach lurched, and however frequently she gagged and coughed, her body refused to let her vomit. Her back arched as the white-hot pain consumed her again. Excruciating agony slipped into her like a dagger between her ribs, and she sobbed into the pillow before whimpering and yelling out. Her stomach lurched violently, and even as she retched, it was useless.

The sheets were twisted around her legs, revealing the thin, raggedy cotton nightgown on her body. Falling to her knees and her forearms, it was cut modestly on the neck and had an elegant frill to every hem. However, because of her squirming, the end of the dress was shoved up to her waist, her sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and the neck falling so the well of her bust was visible. The nightgown was drenched in sweat, therefore causing it to be nearly transparent. However, the other occupant of the room took no notice, being female herself.

Cassidy was still unconscious even as she fought desperately to get away from the pain. Searing, blinding agony had slowly consumed her fingertips, washing over her hands in threads of torture and delicately working its way up her arms in feather-like strokes. Her fingers clenched, but they felt as though thumbtacks were being forced into every inch of her skin. Her body was numb.

_It was like hell when she finally woke. She was aware that she was sprawled on the floor in a spread-eagled fashion. She groaned and rolled over, only to find herself constricted by rusty shackle restraints. _

_Terrified, she sat up and tugged, ignoring the withering pain flowing inside of her body. The shackles were loud and made an unctuous sound that was unnerving. The loud clanking, however, seemed to have attracted people, for the door across the room opened._

_Three people stepped in. The middle was the tallest and thinnest, flanked by two other broad-shouldered Death Eaters with white leering masks. In the middle, she realized with a jolt of absolute terror, was the one that had been ripping her life apart slowly: Lord Voldemort._

_His cat-slit red eyes glared at her with malicious delight dancing in the crimson hue, for there were no pupils. His scaly face gleamed in the torchlight that was supplied from the far left wall. His billowing robes were even intimidating. _

_"Cassidy Valeska, is it?"_

_His voice was high and greatly resembled the hiss of a snake. The hair on the nape of Cassidy's neck and on the back of her arms stood up almost instantly. A shiver went up her spine. She whimpered. _

_"Do you realize that you are worth very much, especially to the Dark Side, Cassidy?" _

_He glowered menacingly at her, and she felt her body cower. She looked at the ground and tried to pull herself into a ball, but the shackles prevented it._

_"I know that I am right in assuming, and knowing, of course, that you would want nothing to do with the Dark Lord, having slowly pulled the threads of your life apart. This is why I have another use for you, my dear Cassidy."_

_She looked up, fear in her eyes, and watched in horror as he slowly drew a wand from the inner pockets of his thick cloak. His raised his arm; his eyes narrowed at her, his face twisted._

_And before she even knew what happened, her body slumped against the wall, just mere milliseconds after the incantation had been uttered. _

The pain was building higher. Her head throbbed so loud that it was worse than the beating of a drum. Every excruciating sound ever known to mankind played through her ears and she screamed out, as the migraine grew steadily worse.

But that wasn't her main focus. Her body was slowly tensing, her muscles growing stiff and refusing to move. The pain gracefully flowed over the curves of her nerves and muscles, winding over the arch of her shoulders and neck before spreading down over her chest in intricate patterns. It connected in threads of light near her stomach before twisting and curving artistically over her thighs and legs. Her neck grew taut and rigid; the tendons suddenly were more prominent that it was seemed impossible. She shuddered, the last voluntary movement her body could offer her before her face was frozen in the blinding white light. The painful, excruciating light slowed considerably as it neared her feet, and little by little, finally seeped into her toes.

And then the pain was horrible, worse than it had ever been before. Her insides were white-hot, her hair feeling like fire, as well as every single one of her nerves. She felt so awfully tortured she couldn't see straight (had her eyes been open). The liquid in her stomach boiled in sickening bubbles, revolving and slowly rising up in her throat. The sickness was caught in her throat and she started choking.

Thumbscrews were winding their way through her muscles and bones, splintering the marrow that held her body erect under her skin. Tendons and ligaments were sliced in half and cut into fractions before they pieced themselves together again, just to be brutally ripped apart.

The pain mounted higher and higher, until she felt as if she was lying in a fire itself. Anguish seared into her skin, carved with the sharp, jagged edge to any dagger, blood seeping through the wound and drenching anything it reached. She felt as if she would rather die than live on with this, felt as if she could go no longer—

There was a deafening roar in her ears, a strong gush of wind and she felt as if she couldn't feel anything.

Suddenly she was aware, and extremely relieved, that pain no longer coursed through her. Her body was occupied by the dullest of throbs, yes, but she was no longer screaming. Her breathing eventually slowed to a deep gasp before she breathed in the glorious air normally. Her senses flowed through her body like a master calling to its dog, and they obeyed. Her hearing returned and she slowly slipped into consciousness.

Everything was hazy when she first opened her eyes. A soft, sort of misty fog clouded her cornea, and she had to blink numerous times before she could see anything properly. Her eyes grew round, her pupils dilating, as she looked around her.

She was lying beneath an extravagant and intricately made ceiling. Above her, carved into the soft wood, were miniature figures of pagan angels, wings attached to their backs, their naked skin glowing. Other figures adorned them ― animals, by the looks of them ― old bearded unicorns, dancing on hind-legs, frolicked through the clouds of the little children, giving off a sort of comfortable and welcoming disposition.

She looked around in the bed she was in. It was about king sized, covered in a silk white comforter with complex and carefully made patterns of flowers, blossoming and miming each other with each cautious stitch. She was lying in crimson sheets, which were twisted right around her thighs and calves from her emotional and painful outbursts.

Warmth was spreading quickly through her, and she felt the demand for food conquer her mind. Suddenly, though, remembering her dream, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine the horrifying nightmare again, wondering if it had really happened or if it was just paranoia lurking dangerously in the back of her mind.

Everything had been so bright, so surreal. She remembered the screaming, fearful faces of the many people, so many of them falling in heaps, never to move again. She remembered screaming as she had watched her own companions die before her eyes, listening to others screaming as it had happened.

But worst of all, she remembered the murder of her parents, whose own faces she couldn't even recall.

She opened her eyes, feeling surprised tears spring to her eyes quickly. It was just then that she noticed the other presence in the room, who was walking slowly towards her and pulling up a chair.

It was a woman in — what looked like — her late thirties, maybe even early forties. She had silky blonde hair, bright as the white sands of the exotic oceans, and it cascaded down her back like water. Her fair skin was pale, almost weary. Her crystal blue eyes were dim with exhaustion and fatigue.

The woman's ideal figure was barely slumped in the chair as her eyes roamed critically over Cassidy in the bed. Her thin, perfectionist-looking eyebrows rose reproachfully.

"You're an awful mess," she said. She sounded as if she was trying to contain as much contempt as possible, but she was having a particularly hard time doing so. "We'll have to get the house-elves to wash you up later," she sighed.

She suddenly sat erectly again, her eyes narrowing as the girl in the bed looked at her, her eyes gleaming with questions.

"Who're you?"

Her voice sounded hoarse, as though she had been screaming excessively. Otherwise, her voice was soft and timid sounding, although it sounded as if it had the confidence to rise to a shout at any given moment.

"_Me_?" the woman asked reproachfully, sounding as if she couldn't believe her ears that the girl asked the question. "_I_ am Narcissa Malfoy." She sounded quite arrogant about this. Cassidy had an urge to roll her eyes, but resisted.

"And me? Who am I?"

The girl suddenly remembered that she had absolutely no idea who she was, where she was, and what had happened beforehand that led her to come to this place. Hell, she couldn't remember anything, period!

"You're Cassidy Valeska." The name sounded very familiar, somehow, and the girl, (apparently her name was Cassidy) found it very fitting for herself.

"And where am I? Why am I here?" Cassidy asked, her voice still weary but quickly gaining strength.

Scowling slightly, Narcissa answered her. "You are in my home, the Malfoy Manor. You're here because we're — that is to say, my husband and I — are your godparents."

"Godparents?" Cassidy echoed, sounding confused.

"Yes, _godparents_," Narcissa sneered. "In your parents' will it stated you should be handed to us should anything happen to them."

Narcissa gave a small, nearly inaudible sigh, and Cassidy swore that she saw confusion in her eyes for a moment before it disappeared just as quickly.

"What do you mean, _if anything should happen to them_? What happened to my parents?" Cassidy asked quickly, her heart racing. She couldn't help but imagine the awful nightmare that had plagued her mind.

Narcissa gave her a long, cold look.

"Cassidy," she said finally. "Your parents are dead."

_**-  
-x-x-x-  
-**_

**A/N:** Okay, well that was the second chapter! It took me so long to write, and sorry about that, because it was kind of repeating the same thing over and over again, (pain, duh), and giving it multiple descriptions that satisfied me enough, (which took a long time, too) and made sure that I could successfully twist her only memory in there so it makes enough sense to me and confuses everyone else!

Thanks to **Kels** for beta-ing this for me! You're great!

Review please!


	3. Confusions of a Faded Memory

**Disclaimer: **As if I have to state the obvious… (again). I DO NOT OWN Harry POTTER. Alrighty? And yet I do own some original, significant characters! Miss Cassidy Valeska and Troy Malfoy!

_-x-x-x-_

**Chapter Summary:** After truly realizing her parents are dead, Cassidy is thrown into a two-week coma. When she awakens, she hears conversations she barely understands, and becomes "reacquainted" with a strangely nice Narcissa Malfoy, who suddenly decides to treat Cassidy like the daughter she never had….

-

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731**

((--Chapter Two--))  
Confusions of a Faded Memory

­-

When conversations turn to awkward moments, people hasten to avoid each other's eyes in fear of breaking into laughter, or sharing a private thought. The tension within the room becomes thicker, and the silence spirals horribly as everyone listens to the drum of their own heartbeat.

At the moment, Cassidy was in a situation that held similar feelings. She was sitting in stunned silence, her blank conscience pouring over the vacant memories and files stored away in her head, where all she could remember was the great heaps and piles of information that were irrelevant to anything she wanted to know. Her heart wasn't hammering, but was slowly beating faster as her breath hitched in her throat, fighting down the urge to demand what was going on.

It had to be a joke, didn't it? How could her parents be dead without a mere remembrance of the scene or any of the facts?

How could she not remember something as shocking as this?

Cassidy blinked, trying to clear her mind and push away the fathomless fog that was haunting her. She wanted to remember their deaths; Hell, she wanted to remember _anything_ about her parents. But all that greeted her was the chilling darkness that she called a memory.

Slowly, she sank back down against the goose-feather pillows, staring up at the ceiling. She wondered, with a slight panic, what exactly had happened to her to cause her mind to be wiped clean like a board at the end of a busy day.

_Has it been days_? she thought to herself. She couldn't start to piece together an image of the last time she had woken up and smiled at the morning rays, let alone the simple memory of another time before this.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the soft hues of her parents' faces. How had they reacted when they saw her dressed up, or when she said something to make them laugh? She would give _anything_ that would glue the puzzle together for a reflection of what her parents looked like.

She opened her eyes again and stared blankly at the ceiling as her mind resolved, after unending minutes of a shaking silence, that she couldn't remember her parents, or anything before today.

She let herself go, feeling the tension leave from her body, for she realized all of her muscles were taut and stiff in a statue-like fashion. She had been alarmed at the fact that she could remember nothing, and then she had just accepted it. Obviously, her brain was protecting her from these faded pictures burned into her mind.

_Or are there any pictures left_? she silently wondered.

And suddenly, guilt washed over her. How could she not remember her parents and not give a second thought about it? They were the people that had _raised_ her from birth, who saw her first steps, gave her baths, named her, loved her, and performed every act a loving parent had to do.

And she wasn't feeling any kind of remorse that these beloved people were _dead_!

Cassidy clenched her eyes shut, hoping that the reason and excuse for her mistake would suddenly dawn on her. Wasn't there a reason that she didn't have a single feeling about the deaths of her parents? Wasn't there some excuse that made her feel relieved that she could go on without any slightly cautious thought?

"It's not true."

Her voice was soft and hoarse, a gravelly sound to it as if her throat had been deprived of water for days on end.

"Excuse me?"

Narcissa's arrogant voice was suddenly much more pronounced than it had been before. She had been told that should anything happen to Cassidy's parents, she would be handed over to the Malfoys. So technically, they would be her godparents.

But it didn't make sense. How could this woman, this _arrogant_ woman, somehow expect Cassidy to look at her in the light of a mother? She was expecting her to be a benevolent daughter who would saunter to do her godmother's every whim.

And how could Cassidy suddenly expect that of herself?

"It isn't true," she whispered again, opening her eyes and struggling to sit up.

She barely recognized that there were restraints tying her down to the bed, as if she were chained up against a wall for some horrible act of outrageousness.

Her muscles screamed in protest, a minor sweat beading her forehead as her stomach clenched and weakened almost instantly, causing her to fall backwards back onto the pillow.

And all the time, Narcissa had been watching her with a slight sneer on her lips as if it was a sin to seem weak.

Cassidy struggled against the fog that was started to creep passed the barriers in her mind and ensnare her senses. She squinted for a moment, breathing raggedly through her cut and chapped lips. She looked at Narcissa, the woman's shapely figure blurred by the remains of the long passed tears before she blinked them away harshly.

She stared at Narcissa for a long moment, desperate to keep awake, and desperate to make sure that her parents weren't really dead.

"I told you, _it's not true_. My parents are _alive_!"

Somehow, her voice has risen to a terrified, beseeching scream. She wanted the woman in front of her to lie and say that Cassidy was right, and her parents were waiting to jump from the closet and scream "April Fools!" and tell her they loved her.

But all Cassidy got was the cold glare that she had received before.

"No," Narcissa whispered, sounding furious, "they're _dead_. There isn't anything you can do about it."

Cassidy peered at her for another moment, knowing that unconsciousness was closing in on her once again.

"You're lying," she accused the Malfoy woman softly, who seemed to have the defiance to smirk at the weak girl in the bed.

Narcissa stood up, pulling up her skirt in her hand for a moment, before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears.

"Stop hoping, girl," she said quietly. "They're gone, and they _aren't_ coming back."

And without another word, she turned and strode from the room, and Cassidy promptly fell into a troubled coma when she fell back against the crimson stained sheets again.

_-x-x-x-_

_**November 15**_

_**Fifteen Days Later**_

"… But I thought it would've been the Granger girl, Lucius."

Through the dim shadows of her trouble mind, a confused feminine voice broke through the darkness, and Cassidy listened with enormous effort to a conversation she could barely comprehend.

"… No, you don't understand, 'Cissa … some last minute changes … couldn't afford to use the Mudblood … understand, don't you?"

Cassidy's fragile ears could catch only snippets of this conversation. She could barely hear through the pounding headache as it was, and listening to the deep, menacing sounding voice of an older man just increased the sharp throb behind her eyes.

"… hardly awake. She's in a coma at the moment, but she's waking gradually." The female voice faded, sounding desperately perplexed and curious. "Please, what's going–"

"You'll understand in time, Narcissa. I've got to go … the Dark Lord wants me to …" The male voice softened into nothing.

"Yes … but please, Lucius …"

"… needs you to do a favor that would be greatly appreciated …" The male voice lowered considerably. "… as if she was your own … can't afford to lose. Not in the trial case …"

"All right … still don't understand …"

"Please. Afterwards, I shall. You'll know then."

The threatening male stopped, sounding as if he was dismissing her, and she knew it too. The conversation was over.

Then, the voice of the woman made a low, throaty sound, as if begging him to stay, but with a soft reply he refused, and Cassidy could almost sense the gentle visual conversation exchanged between the two of them before heavy footsteps evaded her mind. The loud, sharp snap of the door slamming shut let all hell loose upon her brain as a storm of painful electricity erupted in her head.

Weakness was etched all over her body. Her muscles were barely moveable, and it hurt to breathe. Like before, she was constricted against moving, and she felt herself tied to the bed, perhaps with a different, stronger material than before.

The sheets cocooning her felt strangely heavy, and thankfully were very warm. The rest of her body felt as if it were trapped in a cold, clammy sweat. And it was; Cassidy could feel the trickle of perspiration falling over the soft curve of her neck, dripping down her shoulders after a moment's hesitation and gliding across her skin like rain.

She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to ignore the shooting pain bouncing between her temples like a tennis match. A ray of dim light invaded her eyelids, and she clamped her eyes tighter still, not wanting to have the headache increase. She parted her lips, finding the film that had formed over it causing her lips to labor her breathing.

Glorious air filled her lungs as she gasped with a shallow breath. The oxygen flowed down her throat, and she heaved a breath that seemed to bring her body back to life. She could feel the blood pounding through her veins and the air spreading through her body in waves, making her feel alive.

Cassidy was abruptly aware that the silky sheets were clinging to her body, as if they were fastened on and wouldn't let go for the life of themselves. Sweat trickled down the sides of her forehead, and she breathed in slow, ragged breaths, trying to slow her heart rate, for she could feel the fast pulse beating inside her eardrums. Her nose was stuffed, making her wish she had tissues; the pressure below her eyes and in her sinuses was incredible, and she longed to clear her head again.

A soft moaned escaped her as she finally awoke from her traumatized coma. Suddenly, there was scurrying that was quite loud, and then a surprisingly warm hand pressed itself down on her forehead for a moment before carefully touching her wet neck for a pulse. It stayed there briefly, in the hollow of her throat, and Cassidy could feel the slight pressure of the fingertips, the grazing of the nicely manicured nails, and the warmth of the delicate skin.

"You've such a high fever," the person murmured.

Out of the blue, Cassidy suddenly remembered Narcissa; she opened her eyes, squinting up at her as sunlight poured into her pupils, sending horrifying pain through her head once again.

Narcissa jumped at the opportunity and immediately went around the bed, hastily pulling down the shades so the room was only dimly lit. A soft silver band of sunlight stayed peacefully on the floor, a slice of warmth that would later be appreciated.

Cassidy watched with slight confusion as Narcissa went to the head of her bed, and fiddled with something near the top of the carved, arched bedposts that hovered below the ceiling. As the possibility of Narcissa drawing bed curtains entered her mind, a soft _whoosh_ went through the air, and like a breeze of wind or the surf crashing over itself and onto the sand, a thick velvet curtain trimmed with exquisite delicate silvery ribbons came forward. The sunlight caught the soft material momentarily before Cassidy was enveloped in darkness once more.

"Does that help?"

The kind voice of the arrogant woman sounded strangely out of place. Her voice was sincere enough, almost as if she was itching to bow and do her every little need for the girl lying in the bed. But what bothered Cassidy the most was that if Narcissa was pulling a trick, she was doing a hell of a job, and in the near future she was sure she would never be able to tell the difference in her sincere attention or the duplicity she seemed to hold.

"Yes."

Cassidy's voice was hoarse, and barely above a whisper. Narcissa smiled sympathetically and came around the bed. She stood there for a moment, looking slightly uncertain, before smiling in a motherly fashion.

"Are you hungry, dear?" Her clear blue eyes searched Cassidy's face, and then dimmed for some reason.

"Very," Cassidy answered, suddenly aware of the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She was blinking rapidly, as if hoping it would dim the sunlight or push the thick clouds, full of heavy rain, back over the sun so the world would fade to a depressing gray.

As Narcissa smiled and walked to the door, presumably to call a house elf, Cassidy felt a tingling in her fingers that was slowly spreading through her arms in soft, ribbon-like movement. It did not feel uncomfortable, just curiously pleasant, albeit slightly electrical. She clenched her fingers into a fist, closing her eyes and obeying her heavy lids for a few moments. She felt the wondrous current in her fingers suddenly surge with power, and then dim again as she let her hands unclench.

Narcissa's footsteps reached her ears; the faint clicking of expensive-sounding heels on a hardwood floor, perhaps adorned by carvings of the family crest or coat of arms, came closer. There was a soft _whoosh_, a scrape of something, probably metal, and then a gentle, suppressed clanking sound; then, the sound of delicate china being set down, accompanied by the seductive waft of some amazing food that was beyond Cassidy's vision or reach.

She opened her eyes, and gently turned her neck towards the tray of food that was propped up by a contraption similar to those that Muggle waiters used in restaurants.

A large china bowl held a thick, creamy soup that was a rich crimson red. Steam was rising in careful patterns above the hot liquid; a green plant was sprinkled importantly in the approximate middle of the dish. Perhaps it was clove, but Cassidy did not know. Maybe food hadn't been her strong point in her life before.

The food before her smelled delicious; her mouth was watering already, and she suddenly felt more ravenous as the strong scents invaded her and tempted her.

Cassidy struggled to sit, and Narcissa jumped forward at the opportunity to help her, and carefully shoved pillows from the opposite side of the bed behind her. Then, with the aid of her wand, which she used almost discreetly (Cassidy wondered why), Narcissa conjured up a sitting tray and laid it slowly over Cassidy's quilt-covered body. The girl felt the covers tighten around her thighs as the weight of the tray grew. Narcissa cautiously lifted the soup and placed it on the tray, looking as though she was doing some highly dangerous job, and if, for some reason, her fingertips touched any farther down on the brim of the china bowl they were likely to fall off.

Cassidy's eyes fell on the meal, and then, without realizing that she did so, pulled a spoon from the other tray and greedily began eating the broth, knowing she was using absolutely no manners at all. But at the moment she could care less; she felt as though she hadn't eaten in days, possibly weeks, and she needed to scarf this food down as if any other decent meal would never be presented to her again.

Cassidy was not aware of Narcissa's look of utter horror and disgust as she watched her suck down the boiling broth, but only of her walking quickly away and out of the room, as if Cassidy had some type of disease.

To Cassidy, the broth lasted merely a few moments. Before she knew what happened, she was spooning the empty bowl of the remaining dregs of the delicious soup (which turned out to be tomato).

The tray that had firstly been set on the floor was empty and looking eager for something to hold. Cassidy picked up her empty china bowl and set it down on the bedside tray, before placing the tray on her lap over the bowl.

Feeling as though she had a newfound strength, almost as if she was invincible, she pushed aside the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a minute. Was she really ready to just get up and walk to wherever her feet would lead her? Was enough strength reserved so that she wouldn't just tumble down when her knees buckled because her legs couldn't support her? What happened if she got lost, and then something horrible happened and trouble fell upon her?

Feeling uncertain, yet determined she gradually placed her toes on the ground, feeling the smooth, cold hardwood floor beneath her skin. She gripped the satin sheets, and then, with grace and confidence, she pushed away from the bed and took a few strides across the room.

She was standing in the middle of the room, her knees trembling beneath her, when all the blood suddenly rushed to her head. She fainted, falling to the floor with a loud thump.

There was welcoming blackness for what seemed like eternity, softly embracing her, not letting her go as she glided gently through infinite space. Sleep washed over her, and she felt drowsy; but then an unexpected pain sliced through her and her head was pounding with a horrible headache.

What was with the migraines today?

When consciousness decided to grace her, she found herself being hauled to the bed again, and then thrown unceremoniously on top of the twisted, tangled sheets. She recognized Narcissa's voice muttering darkly before heaving a sigh. Cassidy's body was motionless, and she realized that she was still on top of the bed. Slowly opening her eyes, she sat up using her elbows as a slightly weak, though effective prop.

Narcissa had been holding what looked like a wet facecloth, and she was positively startled at Cassidy's abrupt awakening. She was standing quite still, looking somehow guilty, like a deer caught in the headlights.

And she recovered just as quickly, as she had been found guilty.

"Dear, you're finally awake!" she said, with almost too much enthusiasm. Cassidy gave a weak smile that she knew turned into a grimace.

Narcissa smiled warmly and sat on the bed and without any warning, took Cassidy by the chin, and held her still as she ran the cloth over her face. The girl winced and closed her eyes as Narcissa scrubbed. After a moment she let go, and Cassidy opened her eyes, blinking; Narcissa was staring at her sharply.

"What?" Cassidy blurted, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"I'm just thinking that perhaps a nice long bath would do you wonders. You look simply dreadful, and warm water works miracles. Come on then, get up," Narcissa ordered, suddenly brisk.

Cassidy pushed herself up, and nearly fell off the bed. Narcissa grabbed her by the upper arm, and holding her tightly, guided her across the room. She pushed open a door that held carvings of beautiful maidens on it, graceful animals scattered through the picture, hidden among stunning mountain and lake scenery. She turned the snake-like handle, and the bathroom was revealed.

And Cassidy simply gasped.

Before her was a bathroom that was nearly impossible to describe. The enormous tub, standing on proud, gold-clawed gleaming feet, sunk low and touched the floor. There was what looked like a marble staircase leading all the way up to the side of it, and then a sort of ledge around it, big enough to seat five people.

The sink was deep and a nicely shaped oval basin. An arching snake served as the faucet, its mouth open and hissing, allowing water to pass through. The knobs were carved elegantly, looking as if they were made of crystal.

There was a large mirror situated, like any other home, exactly above the sink. It stretched all the way across the room, and then to the ceiling. It had old fashion lights lining its perimeter, which was adorned with carvings like the rest of the bathroom surfaces.

But what surprised Cassidy was the girl staring back at her when she looked into the mirror.

The girl in the mirror was clutching the side of the sink with dirty, frayed hands, lined with scrapes and cuts. The body of the girl was fragile-looking and thin, and it was easily seen through the thin cotton nightgown. Her face was stunning, although sunken and laced with both bruises and cuts; the stormy blue-gray eyes had deep purple lines beneath them, only intensified by the thick black eyelashes. The eyebrows, arched in surprised, were thin and timid looking. The hair was dark, thick and black – darker than midnight, darker than the infinite space that had never seen the light of any of the seven suns – though it lay lank and dirty on her shoulders, falling into split ends and ugly-looking sections.

Before Cassidy knew what was going on, Narcissa was pulling the thin nightgown off of Cassidy's body and shoving her towards the tub. Cassidy, who had been silent in shock at the fact of standing naked, had no time to protest. Yet once she hit the water, everything just melted away into nothing as sweet bliss took hold of her; the warm water was entrancing and she loved it as it spread over her body and made her feel stronger, like no weakness had ever resided inside of her before.

And before she could grip her senses from slipping away from her again, they did.

-_x-x-x-_

"Excuse me, Narciss—I mean, Mrs. Malfoy, who was that person who was here earlier?"

Cassidy had finished her bath and was now dressed in a bathrobe and a towel twisted up in her hair, while she shifted through the garments of clothing that Narcissa had presented to her.

"What?" Narcissa said, sounding as though she had heard Cassidy perfectly well but didn't believe what had been spoken.

"Er … There was someone here earlier, wasn't there?" Cassidy asked cautiously. Somehow, she could sense that to tread carefully on this subject would be extremely wise.

Narcissa looked up from the blue dress she was holding in her hands, and looked for a long, hard moment at the raven-haired girl. Cassidy shifted and fidgeted, as though she had been caught stealing candy but unwilling to confess. Narcissa's eyes hardened for a brief moment before they melted into warmness again.

"No one was here, dear. You must've been dreaming," she answered pleasantly, looking down at the dress for a moment before tossing it aside and picking up a dark blue one and examining it.

"But—it's just I was so sure … I even remember some of it …" Cassidy's slow mumbling came to a halt, and she decided that she should've shut her mouth and never brought this subject up in the first place.

"Oh?" asked Narcissa curiously. There was a slight hint of fear in her voice, though malice was overriding it.

"O-On second thought, I must've been dreaming," Cassidy said hastily, not looking up.

"That's what I thought," Narcissa said, sounding dark and triumphant.

She held up a beautiful blue dress that had silver clasps and a boat-neck collar. Cassidy stared at the piece of clothing in bemusement. She took it hesitantly from Narcissa, held it up to her robed body for a moment, and handed it back.

"It's too nice," she said in a hushed voice. "I could never wear that."

Narcissa impatiently shoved it back into her hands. "We don't have anything plainer. It's either that, or be naked. Your choice," Narcissa said. "Dear," she added quickly.

"All right," Cassidy agreed in a quiet voice.

The blonde Malfoy woman handed her some undergarments (merely a camisole and a pair of knickers) before walking out of the room. Cassidy stared at the bunch of clothes in her hands before sighing and then changing, sitting on the bed instead of using her little strength standing.

When she was dressed, she limped over to the mirror. When she had gotten out of the bath her leg was sore, and she'd spent nearly ten minutes rubbing the sore muscle. She had never gotten the knot out of her leg, and it still hurt a lot.

The mirror was long and thin, with engravings of phrases in dead languages, snakes and dragons carved on each of them. Cassidy stood uncertainly in front of it for a moment before looking at her reflection.

The dress was a beautiful navy blue, smooth and luxurious, and it complimented her eyes greatly. The bodice was tight fitting, the neckline opening around her neck and showing some of her gleaming bare shoulders. There was silver stitching, and patterns flowed from her breasts all the way down to her navel, curling possessively around her hips. The skirt was loose and flowing, though it started at the top of her thighs, rather than at her hips.

Although it was beautiful, Cassidy knew that she didn't belong in the amazing clothing. She knew something just wasn't … _right_. Something was off completely, something hugely important that she couldn't quite place. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but she knew it. She could _feel_ it.

She lifted her hands to her hair, and pulled the towel off. The black tresses were thick and framed her face, with water dripping down her rosy cheeks, as if taking the place of tears. Her hair was wavy, and curled at the bottom, falling to the end of her shoulder blades. Her scalp was cold and wet, though she was hardly bothered.

She had a bruise or two on her face, mingled with scratches. Her lips were cut and chapped, making them look abused and neglected. Her face was long and thin and heart shaped, though in her opinion it still seemed like some uncompleted oval.

Cassidy sighed and turned back and sat on the bed, the day's thoughts drifting through her head. What was that conversation about when she woke from her coma? What was with the new Narcissa?

And lastly, how could Cassidy be so surprised at her own reflection?

_Maybe_, she thought darkly, _I'm surprised to see a face I can't recognize — like it was never mine in the first place._

Left to her confusing thoughts, she frowned, and got up and left in search of Narcissa, hoping for some explanation that she knew would never come.

_**-**  
__**-x-x-x-**  
**-**_

**A/N: **So okay, I know that was an extremely boring chapter, but PLEASE forgive me! It had its important thingies in there, and I thought, although lack of action and events, it had its style! Please don't be mad at me!

I want to thank **Kels** for betaing this for me! Thanks!

**Please PLEASE review!**


	4. A Glimpse of the Future

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. However, I do own the lovely character of Cassidy Valeska, along with Troy Malfoy and a few other characters.

Anyways, let's get started. I'm very anxious about this!

_-x-x-x-_

**Chapter Summary: **Cassidy, who is determined to get some answers for the ceaseless questions flying around in her head, hunts down Narcissa in the enormous Malfoy Manor. However, she doesn't intend on getting lost and finding something remarkable… although it _does_ lead to a very sticky situation…

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731  
-**  
((--Chapter Three--))  
A Glimpse of the Future

-

_Cassidy sighed and turned back and sat on the bed, the day's thoughts drifting through her head. What was that conversation about when she woke from her coma? What was with the new Narcissa?_

_And lastly, how could Cassidy be so surprised at her own reflection?_

_Maybe, she thought darkly, I'm surprised to see a face I can't recognize… like it was never mine in the first place..._

_Left to her confusing thoughts, she frowned, and got up and left in search of Narcissa, hoping for some explanation that she knew would never come._

-

Cassidy felt the meal she had had earlier start to wear off—the heat in her stomach was gone, the comforting feeling of content drowsiness fading. She saw neon spots in front of her as she walked towards the bedroom door. The gleaming handles of the French doors glared at her, and bright lights popping simultaneously in front of her eyes suddenly overcame her vision suddenly. She staggered.

When she opened her eyes again, blinking away the clouds from her irises, she found herself rather light-headed, and feeling as though she hadn't eaten a thing all day, despite her earlier meal.

_Well_, she thought intelligently,_ I have been in a coma, as Narcissa told me. I should be hungry, after all. How would my system be able to regenerate itself after such a long time?_

And thus, she knew she needed more food. She wasn't going to get rid of the dizziness unless she ate more. Resolutely, she decided to get up, find the kitchen, and have a large, proper meal.

And not look like a pig this time, she reminded herself with a frown. That hadn't been the best impression she could've given the woman who was to raise her in the near future.

The raven-haired girl gripped the plush rug beneath her fingers before pushing herself to her knees in a squat, and then stumbled to her feet, using the wall for support. She would have tumbled down onto the floor again had she not clutched it.

Clenching her jaw slightly, she took a few steps forward, and her instant thought was that she _must_ ask Narcissa for a few simpler dresses, for the one she was in now was rather tight, and in order to diminish the spots in front of her, she needed to breathe. She tried to take a few steady breaths, but the dress restricted it.

She felt like fainting again.

Cassidy reached for the door handle, and after inspecting it for a nanosecond and finding herself mildly interested, she turned the knob and pulled open the door.

Her lips parting in surprise, Cassidy started down the enormous, cathedral like hallway she was greeted with.

The rug was Persian, she was sure of it. Islamic arabesque patterns curved delicately along the edges in a rich emerald green; vines adorned with beautiful flowers and fragile leaves, each curve like the gentle breeze as it drifted through the night. Black figures were stitched meticulously, so subtle and so breathtakingly careful that they wouldn't be seen unless the eye was trained.

The walls had very few paintings or portraits, but rather the cold, dark stone had tapestries hanging, names carved in place as lines connected them like a mother grabbing her child's hand.

The ceilings amazed her most; they rose higher than she had ever guessed a ceiling could be permitted. It had high, golden arcs stationed every twenty feet or so apart, looking expensive and luxurious. Little carvings were whittled into the arches, and by the looks of the shadows on the ceiling, paintings were hanging there, suspended in air.

With her mouth hanging open, Cassidy took a few timid steps out in the hall, but once again the blood rushed to her head at the sudden movement, and she lunged at the wall for support. Swallowing her weakness, and feeling curious and determined, she started walking down the gigantic hallway in search of the kitchen.

Cassidy walked for a good five minutes, in which she only passed two other sets of doors (both of were locked) and five enormous windows. Three out of the five showed the grounds in the front of the manor, for she saw the long cobblestone road and the twisted silver gate in the distance. She had trouble spotting it at first because a silver mist was clinging to the horizon, and despite its hard black color, the gate wasn't easily found.

The other two windows showed a courtyard-like thing. She paused and looked down through the window at the massive open space. It resembled a valley; it was large enough, she knew, and it was covered in emerald grass as if Mother Nature had declared it her royal spot. Several walkways bordered the yard, and cut through several times, each lined with flowers. Cassidy almost gasped as she looked up and saw that the house she was in continued on, for she saw another hallway across from her when the other side of a courtyard reached an end. In fact, she learned that there were five floors to the manor she was in, and at the moment she was on the third.

_How large is this house_? she wondered, her eyes wide with surprise.

When she reached the second window, she saw the _rest_ of the courtyard. Like before, it was rimmed with cobblestone sidewalks, but it was much larger than she had anticipated. A set of French doors was located at the far end, and she only just made them out and the drawings etched in the dark marble.

She stepped forward and placed a hand on the glass windowpane, her fingers suddenly outlined by the ivy-like frost consuming the glass. Her eyes traced the paths that laced in and out of the flower patches, and then, all at once, they met at a pool of some sort.

It was not an ordinary pool; it was very deep, for she could not see the bottom. It was a swell of black and dark water, despite the weak autumn sun shining directly upon it. A high black gate, quaint-looking and spidery, surrounded it curving and twisting like the hungry flames of a strong fire. Blue-gray granite benches contrasted beautifully with the flowers that were still holding onto their life, as if it were a last morsel of food.

Her eyes darted over the glass windows tens or hundreds of yards away from her, and she surmised that they were all part of the house (_manor_, she reminded herself), and she should now set off in search of food.

She would have, had she not raised her eyes and inhaled sharply.

She could see three or four towers over the top of the walls on the last floor, which were lined with gargoyles and statures and spidery metal spikes. She turned and looked the other way, and her eyes met the same sight. They stood high and fierce; stones were plastered here and there and making it look like it adorned an old-fashion palace.

_Considering the massiveness of this house, I suspect it is an ancient, quaint palace_ she thought with a slightly grim frown.

She found nothing wrong with it, but it was the fact that the one tower she was looking at —the south-eastern one, to be precise— was cast in shadow from the clouds above, and it looked particularly menacing. It was ominous and seemed as if it may be haunted. And though she positively shivered at the thought, she reminded herself that ghosts didn't matter; in the Wizarding World, ghosts were a natural thing, and sometimes helpful.

_Still_, she said to herself anxiously as she ripped her gaze from the large turret, _something doesn't seem right about it…_.

Then she turned once more and, determined not to be stopped for any reason whatsoever, she set off down the long hallway, feeling dizzy as she stared into the vanishing point.

_-x-x-x-_

Cassidy had no idea how long she walked, only that she came across a few stunning things about the manor she was wandering in, completely lost and without a clue how to get back.

By now she was quite light-headed and felt very faint. She _needed_ food, and she needed it _now_. She was going to crumple in a heap very soon if she didn't get any nutrition. How could Narcissa give her just one decent meal (Cassidy's stomach growled at the delicious thought of it), and expect her not to need more? She had been in a coma for so long!

Yes, it's true, Cassidy reprimanded herself suddenly. But I can't expect to have Narcissa at my every whim … despite the fact that I'm roaming her manor rather freely, and I'm lost and have not a faint idea of how to get back … and then, to add to it, I'm extremely hungry!

Sighing, Cassidy walked slowly down the corridor. She wasn't as awed anymore by the amazing detailed artwork and expensive woven rugs, the stunning courtyard that was slowly growing darker, or the articulate windowpanes that were lined with silver or gold.

No, the only thing she could be amazed by at this point would be the kitchen ... if she ever found it.

She trudged on, not wanting to stop for a break because the clawing feeling inside her stomach was growing. She was surprised she hadn't passed out yet, for she was weak, malnourished, and not able to breathe properly in the awfully tight dress.

Spotting a set of doors up ahead, her body suddenly reeled with excitement. Would these be the doors that would finally reveal the food she craved? Would they cause her great joy, or great disappointment? Smiling in spite of herself, she reached forward for the doorknob, praying it lead to the kitchen.

The door was locked — again. She sighed, knowing she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up in the first place, for the last doors she had encountered had been locked also. Frustrated and starving, she kicked the door, cursed it, and grabbed the sleek handle again and twisted it with all her might, taking an attempt at revenge.

When it popped open, she became frozen and still, her eyes alert for any movement, and her ears pricked for any sound. Long strands of her ebony hair fell over her shoulders and into her eyes, and she impatiently pushed them back and ventured forth into the area that was suddenly available to her.

Whatever this room was, it was dim. Candles were perched on candelabras that were in notches in the stone, high in the walls. Their flickering lights seemed familiar to her somehow and, pushing it from her mind with slightly narrowed eyes, she stepped in and softly shut the door behind her.

The click of the handle gave a resonating sound, and it echoed down the short corridor. She looked around; the place she was in was almost like a foyer of some sort. It had pillars and a hollowed place that people could gather in, and there were chairs and expensive looking couches pushed up against the wall. In the middle of the path was a huge grand piano, elegant, glossy, and begging to be played. She resisted and walked on.

Still, she noted how everything had figurines and carvings, lined with gold and silver, and most of the figures were snakes or dragons or dark-looking creatures. She barely suppressed the shiver that instantly came over her, almost as if alerting her that she was not welcome here.

Past the piano, there was another set of doors, and she stood before them, her fingertips caressing the snake handle. The emerald eyes stationed there gleamed in the flickering light, and she frowned anxiously before turning the handle with such fierceness it surprised even her.

The door opened and the wind beneath it seemed to echo. The room was dark, and Cassidy stepped over the threshold, pushing her wet hair behind her ears again. As she stepped onto the shining chestnut floor, the room was suddenly lit as if a roaring fire had just been ignited. Her eyes widened, and with a huge step backwards so that her calf was over the threshold in the other room, she gasped.

_Never_ in her life had she ever she imagined something as wonderful and beautiful as this.

There was a magnificent, enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which was higher than that of a cathedral, with paintings to rival those of the Sistine Chapel. Diamonds glittered and winked as they hung loosely and connected to the golden arms holding thick beige candles. She would have guessed they wouldn't make enough light to illuminate an entire room such as this one, but apparently she was wrong.

Around her were books. _Thousands_ and _millions_ of books. The bookcases reached all the way up to the ceiling, with ladders attached to the top railing to glide over the shelves to collect the novels stored higher. There were books with bindings so thick they might've needed multiple people to hold them up, books lined with silver stitching and yellowing pages, smelling of wood or the aroma of some wonderful natural scent, and books of so many different varieties that she didn't know how someone could collect this many and have use for them all.

There were so many shelves, and they winded around the circular room, and she saw, to her utter delight, a pair of arched doors that presumably led to another room that branched off from this library. The rails for the ladders perched high up reflected the candlelight much brighter than they should have; her eyes narrowed slightly and she shifted, looking around more.

Like the hallways, the windows were huge, their panels frosty with crystal-like patterns and lined with thin gold around the edges. Beneath them were beds of some sort, or at least that's what Cassidy thought they were. There were huge cushions, dark and velvety with plush Afghans thrown over them, spreading out under the window and onto the floor. The black sofa-like things could have held twenty people had it been attempted.

Pushed against the only wall that had not a single bookcase against it was a huge fireplace, with nothing but ashes in the grate. The mantle was dark granite, with green speckles scattered here and there. Quaint ornaments were placed on the mantle; they were neither covered in dust, nor did they look particularly important.

An attractive oriental rug was on the cold floor, and more couches were placed along its edges, tables against their sides. Each table had a dimly lit lamp on them. On one of the dark-wooded tables was a long, thin stick that looked suspiciously like a wand, sitting atop a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Cassidy, who had been standing in the doorway in awe for the past ten minutes, tentatively starting moving forwards the wand and the parchment, her heart fluttering slightly, and she extended her arm towards it.

Her hand closed around the wood, and suddenly a splintery feeling of white-hot prickles shot through her arm, and despite the fact that it burned her hand, she did not let go of the wand. In moments, the hotness died and she gazed in thought at the magical wood in her hand, which felt oddly in place.

Her fingers found the curl of the parchment, and with a fluid movement, she pulled the yellowing paper open. Lines and edges and shapes were spread out, labels written neatly in the middle of each one, rectangles spaced out with different angles and shapes inside of them. She looked at it for a moment, before she realized what it was.

_A map_ … she thought to herself, and then, like magic, it all clicked.

"A map of the _house_," she whispered. She grinned as her eyes scanned the paper for the kitchens. She found them.

"Excellent."

_-x-x-x-_

It turned out that the kitchens were on the bottom floor, tucked safely away in the farthest corner of the house. Cassidy, who had previously felt very faint, was now buzzing with energy as she took a finishing spoonful of the crimson soup Narcissa had brought her from before. She licked her lips, feeling the ragged chapped skin beneath her tongue. She frowned slightly, but a moment later she shrugged it off.

She was currently in the kitchens at a long wooden table, whose surface was worn and bland and had burns, streaks of random food, stains of hit liquids, and scars from various utensils on it. She was watching the house elves run to and fro from the part of the kitchen she was in to another that was opened with a swinging door, and she couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at how little creatures were performing tasks that humans should be doing with a decent wage.

Still frowning, Cassidy turned her attention towards the map of the manor she had found, her eyes grazing over it in wonder. Out of the five floors of the large house, there was also a basement and huge grounds outside of them. There were stables on the south-western corner of the estate, and she didn't know if there would be regular Muggle horses or magical creatures residing in them.

In the entire house, there were six libraries, the main being the place that she had walked into. There was one in every other tower for the castle. The Master's library was just as big as the main one, and the one for each tower was half the size.

Cassidy suddenly had an urge to walk the halls and explore the house completely. As she looked over the map even more, she saw there were many, many more things to discover. There were ballrooms and foyers, and even dungeons in the vast cellar. Some rooms on the map weren't even finished, and there were hallways that stopped abruptly; in other words, she was convinced there was more to this house she was currently in than anyone thought.

And she wanted to find out all about it.

She stepped out of the kitchen, fingering the wand fondly, and holding the map in her other hand. She wanted to go and look at the towers first, because they seemed the most interesting. Their dark, ominous feeling attracted her greatly, and she wanted to figure out what was so alluring.

Cassidy had not walked two feet down the hallway when a hair-raising shriek stopped her right in her tracks.

"_Where_ have you been?"

Cassidy whirled around like lighting, her nerves jumping at the sudden high-pitched yelling. She watched Narcissa's angry figure storm down from the head of the hall to where Cassidy was standing.

"I have been looking _all_ over for you! Heaven knows what you have been doing, girl! Do you _know_ how large this manor is? It's _gigantic_! Great Merlin himself only knows what Lucius has in this castle! What if you had gotten _lost_?"

Cassidy stood still as Narcissa entered a rambling rage of some sort. She was obviously very flustered about Cassidy venturing out and exploring. The raven-haired girl opened her mouth to defend herself, but she was cut off almost immediately.

"Please—"

"—Might have stumbled down one of the tower steps, and Lucius would _not_ be too pleased with that—"

"Narcissa—"

"—or you may have been stuck in the cellar! Good _Lord_, the creatures down there are dreadfully _vile_—"

"May I just—"

"—But had you discovered the _garden path_, oh I'm sure you wouldn't have seen day for _years_—"

Cassidy was sick of trying to cut Narcissa off and speak for herself. She could feel her annoyance growing, and she _really_ wanted to quiet this blonde woman. Slowly, she reached for the wand tucked safely in one of the little notches she had found in the dress.

"_Silencio_!"

Narcissa suddenly stopped making any noise whatsoever. In fact, her body immediately stopped its wild gesticulations, and all at once, her face, which had been pale in the first place, lost the little color it had as she stared at Cassidy, her blue eyes surprised.

Cassidy stuck the wand back into the pocket with an air of almost superiority, and couldn't help but smile slightly at Narcissa.

"I _am_ extremely sorry, Narcissa, but I needed to speak and you weren't giving me a chance." The girl smiled at the blonde woman, who was looking politely astonished. Her mouth was not hanging open, her eyes were not huge, but Cassidy could see the surprise anyway.

And quite quickly, the severity and anger was glowing in her eyes, and like lightning, Narcissa snatched her wand from a pocket on her dress. Cassidy automatically flinched, thinking she was going to be cursed, but a moment later she realized Narcissa simply took her voice back.

"If you dare to think for a moment," Narcissa started in a low, quivering voice that was so full of malicious anger that it stunned the young girl, "that you will be able to get away with _that_ in the future, you are _very_ mistaken. Behavior like that is _intolerable_, and it won't go unpunished in the upcoming weeks!"

All through her reprimanding, she had stepped closer with every word, brandishing her wand dangerously close to Cassidy, who stayed very still as Narcissa's eyes burned into hers. She could see that the thin, arrogant-looking woman was _not_ to be irritated.

"And give me that wand!" Narcissa ordered suddenly, gaining her usual posture and holding out her hand expectantly, a fierce look in her eyes.

Recoiling only slightly, Cassidy narrowed her eyes and gave Narcissa an indignant look.

"Why should I?" she asked. "It's mine, for one!" She has spoken these words without thinking; they felt true, so why not say them as so?

Narcissa made a sound of disbelief. "Do not speak of what you don't know! Hand over the wand, or I shall take it from you!" she sneered.

"What do you mean?" Cassidy said at once, putting a hand over the wood protectively. "It is mine, I can feel it! Is that what you mean?"

"Girl, give me the wand! It _isn't_ yours!"

"Yes, it _is_!"

"No, it is not! Give me the damned wand!"

"Then whose is it?" Cassidy demanded angrily.

Narcissa stood rigidly, her shoulders stiff and her body taut. She let out a loud exhale and breathed in again.

"That wand belongs to a girl who is _dead_," Narcissa said finally, in a voice quite unlike Cassidy had heard so far. "She was on our property last before her death, and her wand had not left the premises. It belonged to her, and now, it belongs to _us_. Not to you, but to the _Malfoy name_," Narcissa growled.

Cassidy stood a foot from the blonde Malfoy woman. Narcissa's delicate hand was still out, waiting for the wand to be placed down onto its palm. Cassidy's dark cerulean eyes traveled from the hand back to Narcissa, who still looked furious and was only just keeping her anger in check.

Slowly, painfully, Cassidy reached down and took the wand from the pocket. After letting it dangle in midair for a moment, she dropped it. Narcissa's fingers curled around it, and the sense of home and familiarity left Cassidy completely. There was nothing to relate to anymore, and she felt a kind of remorse.

"I-I'm sorry," she apologized quietly, dropping her eyes. "I-I didn't realize—"

"Of course you didn't," Narcissa snapped, still sounding angry.

Chancing a quick glance up, Cassidy said, "If you don't mind me asking, who was the girl?"

Narcissa looked at her, something undetectable swirling in her eyes. At last she said, "It was no one important. Just a filthy — little — _Mudblood_."

And then, for a split second, Cassidy almost thought she saw something like fearful regret in the blue eyes, like Narcissa had made a very dangerous mistake.

But in the next instant, it was gone.

Narcissa turned suddenly on her heel and started up the hallway. Cassidy stood there, looking blankly at her retreating back. The thin woman marched on without a word of explanation, and soon, she was out of sight.

Cassidy lowered her eyes to the curled parchment still in her hands. Like before, her fingers found the tight edges and pulled them apart, revealing shapes and squares, angles and passageways, and all varieties of assortments that the manor held.

She lifted her eyes and glanced around the hallway. At the moment, she was standing in the middle of a four-way intersection of corridors, and no matter which way she took, it would take her someplace exciting. Her eyes found the tower she had set her mind on, and she couldn't help but smile a little.

She knew where she was going, and she was going to take some time to get there.

Making up her mind, she started down the hallway to her right, unaware of the presence that had been behind her for only a few moments. It departed quickly to its original place, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood.

Turning swiftly, she looked around in an almost feverish manner for the cause of suspicion. Finding none, she turned around slowly and continued on her way.

She knew, somehow, that the short encounter revolving around the wand with Narcissa would be a preview of something that was to come. But she wanted to know, either way, what was bothering her so when she looked around her.

Because no matter where she was in that house, she knew she didn't belong.

Sighing, she trudged up the hallways, already wondering if things were going to get worse. After all … that wand had belonged to a dead girl, and they still kept it …

_No, that doesn't sound creepy at all_, Cassidy thought with a little roll of her eyes. There was something wrong, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

_And I will, even if it takes me my life … _she mused_. I will __find out no matter what happens … if it kills me, so be it._

Feeling a sense of foreboding creep over her, she hurried away, unaware of how incredibly correct she had been.

_**-  
-x-x-x-  
-**_

**Author's Notes: **Well, I hoped you all liked that. I sorta didn't because the lack of excitement, but I'll figure something else to have the heart racing!

Thank you so much **Kels** for betaing this for me!

**Review please!**


	5. The Beginning

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Harry Potter, just the marvelous character named Cassidy Valeska. Wooh. Also, Troy Malfoy (that little devil) and a few insignificant others that make arise when the time calls for it.

_-x-x-x-_

**Chapter Summary:** Somehow, hours turn to days, days into weeks, and Cassidy is caught up in a whirlwind of womanly education. Narcissa has been treating her awfully well after that wand fiasco, and has been teaching her how to act properly, and live life in the aristocratic way. Though bemused, Cassidy finds it mildly amusing, and through some jeering, decides to show the Malfoy woman up and perfect the art of being formal and poised and elegant all at once. Her knowledge is tested when she is invited strangely into a legal trial that has her making the biggest decision of her life. Somehow, through the timid and quiet girl Narcissa has started to train her to be … she makes poor judgment, marking the beginning of her long journey ...

I've kept you long enough, so let's get this show on the road!

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731**

((--Chapter Four--))  
The Beginning

-

_Sighing, she trudged up the hallways, already wondering if things were going to get worse. After all… that wand had belonged to a dead girl, and they still kept it…_

_No, that doesn't sound creepy at all, Cassidy thought with a little roll of her eyes. There was something wrong, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it._

_And I will, even if it takes me my life… she mused. I will find out no matter what happens … if it kills me, so be it._

_Feeling a sense of forbidding creep over her, she hurried away, unaware of how incredibly correct she had been._

-

Days had gone by, and the raven-haired girl had resorted to wandering about the old manor with curiosity and excitement pouring through her. She was constantly discovering things, places she couldn't go, pictures she hadn't seen, and _so many books._

She had practically made the library her bedroom, and she was almost always found pouring over a book, blissfully engrossed and unaware of her surroundings.

Cassidy looked around the other set of huge, arching doors, and she was delighted to find another room, though considerably smaller, with lots and lots of more books. It was almost like a study; desks were placed against the walls, some beside the small fire-grate, and others by the window.

She particularly liked the rug on the floor; it had arabesque designs on it and a uniquely Persian feel. It was soft as velvet, while at the same time rough and jagged if rubbed the wrong way.

But what she loved the most was the second floor. There was an open balcony wrapped around the room with dark wooden shelves filled with books, the soft chestnut railing carved smoothly in a long, twisting serpent. She followed it at once and came upon a set of locked French doors, yet again. She twisted and pried the doorknob, but could not open the stubborn doors.

If she was not to be found in the library, she was exploring the house. There was always, _always_ something new to be discovered. She immediately went to the southeastern tower, in which she found was ominous and alluring when she spotted it from a window in passing.

Cassidy immediately grabbed the map that she had kept with her from the day she'd found it, and headed over to the tower as quickly as she could. Of course, she was bound to get lost, and she did.

Confused and irritated, she stumbled into another hallway. Cursing, she ran down it as fast as she could, only to find a four-way hallway … _again_. She couldn't count how many times she had been lost and angry, sitting in the middle of four different corridors.

So, now very irate, she got up, turned a corner, and started walking down the hallway. It was very unlike all the others she had passed through; it had no windows, and was getting darker with every step she took. But she could see a light far ahead that was beaming, and the hallway was brighter towards the middle.

Hurrying, she jogged toward the light. She found, gaping with astonishment, that the tunnel was suspended in mid-air above the magnificent courtyard. She pressed her nose against the crystal glass and stared below at the cobblestone pathways and the gardens full of lush flowerbeds. She looked up, and expecting to see the wall that had the two towers attached to it, she found that there was a wall, and then a space.

_So, therefore, there must be another courtyard or something…_ she thought logically. Wanting to see it, she scoured the manor best she could, but only succeeded in getting herself lost.

Again.

She ended up at a high pair of doors; the soft wood was carved with twisting flames and a Latin inscription. The doorknobs were shaped oddly; in fact, they weren't circular in any way whatsoever. It was almost as if they were the seductive curl of a flame, tempting all to touch it to reveal whatever was behind it. Cassidy immediately snatched the doorknob, hoping and _praying_ that it would open, and pushed open the doors.

She nearly fainted on the spot; she had come across the ballroom of the Malfoy Manor. Simply stunning, the huge, cavernous room was colored in pastel and earthy tones, with gold and silver lining each tile on the dark marble floor. The room had arches like all the hallways did, carved in an old-fashion way and knobbed here and there. They glowed as though the rays of the sun had touched them, reaching up towards the cathedral-like ceiling.

But what she really liked the most was the grand, magnificent staircase. It wasn't small and narrow with two thin side rails, but big, flowing out in gigantic waves, the final white marble stair wrapping in a half-circle.

The railings were huge and supported by thick columns, but at the end it seemed as if all the extra stone had pooled together in a little oval, with a delicate swirl.

A beautifully crafted statue was on the oval; often seen in majestic theaters and extremely wealthy places, the statue depicted a golden figure, female, reaching up towards the ceiling with an almost desperate or wanting look on her face. The only clothing on her body was wrapped around her waist, tying at the thigh and revealing normally unseen skin far beneath her navel.

Blushing and trying not to look at the naked chest of the statue, Cassidy turned and ventured to the other side of the room, which took a while. Her shoes clacked on the floor and she heard the echo of her own breathing. It was almost eerie how she caught any sudden sound she might've made by accident, and how each and every sound bounced off the walls to only be thrown right back at her.

There was a raised dais in the farthest corner of the room, and a pit behind it. Curious, she looked into the hollow space; there was a grand piano, glossy and sleek looking, and a few chairs. She guessed it was for any musicians who might play here at one point or another.

She wandered over to the glass doors and pushed them, but they would not open. Frustrated but quietly satisfied (she could see through the window panes), she looked through the glass and saw a balcony big enough to hold twenty or more people, and the dark grey stone winding out of site.

For Cassidy, this had been one _interesting_ day.

_-x-x-x-_

_**November 25**_

Her eyes poured over the text, her fingers poised at the sharp edge of the paper, ready to turn so she could throw herself deeper into the interesting text she was reading. She chewed her lip, her eyes narrowed, before she threw the page over and started speeding over the lines.

There was a sudden clack of heels on the hard, cold floor that brought Cassidy out of her novel, her reverie broken as she was pulled from the story.

Cassidy looked across the library, her hand holding the next page passively, and watched as the handle turned slowly and the door opened.

The tall, slim figure of Narcissa Malfoy entered. As usual, she looked fancy and casual at the same time, something Cassidy had yet to figure out how the woman accomplished.

But then again, all Cassidy owned were those wretched dresses with corset-like tops that had her gasping for breath. She had looked through the shapely closets and found a simple dark grey cloak to throw over the dress; the manor was often cold and the only material she chose to wear out of the other dresses was terribly thin.

"Hello," Cassidy greeted, sounding almost wary.

She hadn't talked to Narcissa since the wand incident, and she felt as if any word she spoke would instigate a malicious fight.

"Hello, dear," Narcissa said, almost too brightly as she pulled up a chair. "What's that you're reading?"

"Erm, _The Adventures of Merlin_. I found it in the other room."

"Oh," Narcissa answered, her eyes flicking downward to the table for a moment, her face pensive. She looked back up at Cassidy.

"I've wanted to speak with you for quite some time now," she said seriously.

Cassidy couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at this. _What could she possibly want with me? She had all this time to confront me about whatever this could be about,_ she thought suspiciously.

"Yes?" Cassidy asked, waiting for the blonde to continue talking.

Narcissa looked down for a moment before smiling broadly and glancing back at her. "Well, you see, I've been thinking. Since you're going to be living here for quite a while, I thought I could try to… teach you a few things."

"What kind of things?" Cassidy asked slowly.

"Like… how to be a Malfoy. You'll be staying here, and you'll be as good as my daughter. I would be delighted to eventually see you in that light if I can educate you up to my standards."

"Well—"

(new paragraph)

However, Narcissa continued to speak as though she hadn't heard Cassidy interrupt.

"And yet, you see, there have been the girls of my son's courting that I've tried to teach, and others who stayed here for a long while and did not succeed. I simply must have only the elite, and so far no one but myself has reached that height."

Narcissa was arrogant, that was for sure. She had boasted, and subtly said that Cassidy wasn't good enough to complete whatever Narcissa put her through to reach this 'high point' she was talking about.

_But I am_, Cassidy thought silently as she looked at the page of words blankly. _She isn't the bloody Queen of England; I can be just as high-class as she if I wanted too._

Although Cassidy found it slightly odd how she had only been there ten days and Narcissa was speaking to her like this, she made up her mind anyway. No, Narcissa wouldn't have an upper hand; Cassidy would be just as good as the Malfoy and hopefully be even better.

From a sudden flash of anger and jealously, Cassidy _knew_ she was going to force herself through whatever Narcissa had in store for her, do it famously and become better than the woman was herself.

_No one shows me up_, Cassidy thought with a sudden streak of ferocity. If Narcissa wanted to think she was the cream of the crop, let the uptight woman think that. She would never see the clever girl sneaking up on her.

"Well, Narcissa," Cassidy said, shutting her book and folding her hands coolly. "I think I might partake in this thing of yours. Please, what exactly will you be teaching me?"

Narcissa smirked, just a little, before smiling properly and gushing out her words with enthusiasm. "Well, I shall be teaching you to remember to use all proper manners, which I will go over: conversing, dancing, eating, and your overall physical appearance. There are many more categories, but I think I could have you in shape with just a select few teachings."

_She sounds like a… a _nun_ or something! _Cassidy thought wildly. Honestly, dancing? Conversing and _eating_? This wasn't the Middle Ages; it was modern 1998! Was this woman living in the past, or what?

Cassidy forced a pleasant smile on her face, hoping to take the horns of this and do it perfectly.

"Well, Narcissa, I think I can do this. When do we start?"

Narcissa smiled, and Cassidy could've sworn she saw triumph in her blue eyes.

"Right now."

_-x-x-x-_

_**December 9**_

_**Two weeks later**_

"Sit up _straight_, girl, or you're never going to get this correct!" Narcissa snapped.

Cassidy, who was sitting very erectly in a chair, tried to snap into a more precise position, but found her back was as straight as it could go.

"Mrs. Malfoy, my back doesn't go backwards. I couldn't possibly sit up any straighter," Cassidy said angrily.

_Mrs_. _Malfoy_. The first part of her 'teachings' was conversation, therefore it meant addressing people properly, introducing oneself, and having formal, polite conversations that could be discussed without any trouble lurking in the passing words.

It also meant acting a certain way; for instance, even if she was angry, Cassidy had to always appear calm and collected and politely upset, only touching gently upon the sensitive subject. She could only use certain words, for one wrong move and she was in trouble. Narcissa had already cuffed her a few times for messing up, and however annoying Cassidy found it, she bit back her witty retorts. If she was going to show this woman up, she had to learn to suck it up.

While talking to people, she learned women generally did not partake in the conversation unless the whole group was female associates, friends, relatives, or those of the same social status. However, in a normal everyday conversation where men were most likely ruling the babble, she was not to speak unless addressed to personally.

"Always say 'sir' and 'ma'am' when they speak to you. Do not start your sentence with the formal address, and rarely ever end it with such unless it seems completely necessary," Narcissa had chided, and it had happened more than once.

"_Do not_ speak to me with that tone! As far as you know, I am an upper-class woman who is married to a man who is wealthy, popular among his _many_ colleges, and well known in the Wizarding World. You do not speak to me as if I am your proper mother; you address me formally as you would an important figure of society. _Do you understand me, girl_?" Narcissa barked at her.

Resisting the _very_ tempting urge to roll her eyes, Cassidy replied in a colorless tone, "Yes."

"Yes, _what_?"

"Yes, _ma'am_," Cassidy replied sharply, turning to look at the woman. She was angry and Narcissa wasn't helping very much.

Her cheek earned her another cuff over her head, and grumbling angrily under her breath, she tried her hardest to sit up straighter, ignoring the now sore spot on the side of her head.

Narcissa frowned, but after a moment she had a contemptuous look and she sighed. "You need more practice, girl, you still look like you're slouching."

"I _do_ have a name, you know," Cassidy snapped, feeling annoyed that she had to call Narcissa _Mrs. Malfoy,_ but Cassidy apparently didn't have a name.

_Whack_. The woman cuffed her again, and Cassidy let out a low hiss and rubbed her head.

"You, my _dear_, are not the wife of an important and influential person in this magical society. As far as names go, you don't even _have_ one, and I may as well bark orders at you. Be happy I'm calling you _'girl'_; I could purposely mistake your gender and call you _boy_ instead. In fact, I may as well. Your appearance isn't very appropriate and you're dressed like a _man_."

Cassidy had found a pair of comfortable, snug trousers and a long lace-up top that went down to her thighs. Combining the two with the grey, shapeless cloak she often wore, she didn't look like a man, rather a young girl who hadn't given much though to her appearance.

Cassidy looked back at Narcissa rather contemptuously. "Well, excuse _me_ for dressing in comfortable clothing! Would you prefer, _Madam_, for me to be all laced up in a tight corset where I can't sit or breathe without choking?"

"Yes! If it makes you appear more alluring than you do at the moment, then yes indeed!" Narcissa snapped. Cassidy gaped at her.

Narcissa leaned down, slamming her hands on the table in front of the raven-haired girl. "You do _not_ understand what I'm teaching you! You haven't understood from the moment I began talking to you weeks ago!"

"I have too!" Cassidy protested immediately.

"Then why aren't you portraying yourself to what you have learned? You are acting quite like a scoundrel, and I shall not have that! You are not putting forth any effort!" She cuffed the girl rather suddenly. Cassidy flinched and grabbed her head.

"A fine example!" Narcissa yelled, pulling Cassidy's hand away from her throbbing forehead. "A woman who is married to a man in Lucius' league does not flinch, nor does she show any signs of displeasure or complaint _whatsoever_. I'm aware that you are not married to him, but you are living under his roof, and you shall be for quite some time! If you are to be shown with Malfoys, you must _seem _and _appear_ as one, or you shall tarnish the name!"

"I'm not bloody perfect!" Cassidy shrieked. "I can't learn this all so well and be expected to have it down after such a short amount of time!"

"Well, from now on, you _will_ be perfect! You must learn quickly and have everything down to the point and very precise, because if you are living here with Lucius, and myself ignorance is _very dangerous_. Do you understand me?" Narcissa snapped.

"Am I meant to?" Cassidy spat angrily, earning herself another cuff. After earning a seething look from Narcissa as she went to tend to her head, she slowly put her hand on her lap, ignoring the burning sensation.

Narcissa leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, looking dangerous and almost deadly serious.

"If you cannot keep these teachings in your head, girl, you aren't good enough. I'll have you know that there is a trial coming up soon for your custody, and we have the opportunity to keep you and then throw you out into the streets without anybody knowing!"

"That's a plain lie!" Cassidy said at once.

"You wouldn't know!" Narcissa reminded her sharply. "And even if it was, what would you do about it? You have nowhere else to go, you have _nothing_ to your name, and as far as it appears, you do not exist."

"I do!"

"Go on! Ask someone of whom you have their name and ask them if they've ever seen your face in passing! No one does! No one has even heard your name before, girl!"

"There are plenty!" Although Cassidy wasn't particularly sure, there had to be _someone_ who knew her in the world. Anyone.

"Oh yes? Then who, may I ask?" Narcissa said, sounding sweetly sarcastic.

And her words found Cassidy desperately searching her nearly empty memory for names of someone, _anyone_ at all besides Narcissa Malfoy, or Lucius. Even the deep corners of her mind, though hazy with something she couldn't quite place, were empty as far as she could tell.

She put her hand on her forehead and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes blank but clouded as she scourged her short memory. There was nothing to be found except the nearly empty blackness that she knew.

She looked up at Narcissa, a very unhappy look on her face, feeling rather defeated. She did not like how this woman constantly had the upper hand and was shoving her around like a school ground bully. Narcissa was taking away all the pleasure Cassidy had and it wasn't very fair at all.

All Cassidy wanted to do was smack Narcissa across the face and tell her to shut her stupid little mouth, because she was having trouble comprehending the actually concept of _why on earth_ anyone would act this way.

When Cassidy finally lowered her eyes in frustration and shame, Narcissa smirked.

"I thought so," Narcissa said.

(new paragraph)

Cassidy looked up at her with a miserable look on her face. She now knew that she did _not_ like being the wrong one in an argument.

Narcissa smirked and withdrew her wand from her dress pocket.

"Now, assuming that there shall be no more interruptions on your part, why don't we move on from where we left off?" she said.

(new paragraph)

Cassidy gave her a sour look but said nothing.

The Malfoy was quiet a moment before speaking. "I think I know just how to get your posture straight. Up!" she barked suddenly.

(new paragraph)

Cassidy did not move; in result, a faint blue light shot out of Narcissa's wand, and a shock went through Cassidy.

Cassidy yelped and stood up almost immediately. Narcissa had a smug look on her face, and summoned the stack of books from the other side of the table. If they ran out, there were plenty more; they were in the main library, full to the brim with such wondrous books.

Narcissa placed her wand on the tip of the dark green book and it suddenly lit up very brightly before dimming gradually to the color it firstly was. She picked it up very carefully and handed it to Cassidy.

When Cassidy touched it, it zapped her again like the tip of Narcissa's wand had done. She shrieked and dropped the book as a soft throbbing slowly wound its way up her arms and throughout her body. Narcissa glared at Cassidy as she rubbed her arms, trying to numb the pain and soothe the ache.

Her arms crossed and her face looking as if she had spotted something disgusting, she said, "Pick it up!"

Cassidy reached down reluctantly, hoping it would not shock her again. However, as soon as she lifted a corner it sent screaming shocks through her body that started a pounding migraine behind her eyes.

"What the bloody hell is _wrong_ with this book?" Cassidy cried.

Narcissa smirked. "It must be perfectly even or it will shock whoever is holding it. Once you get it on your head, your practice of posture begins."

Cassidy stared at the woman, who looked triumphant. She felt anger and frustration boil over the invisible brim of her head and wanted to scream out in fury.

"If you're so perfect, why don't you do it?" Cassidy demanded angrily, forgetting all of her manners and nearly shouting at the woman.

There was _no way_ in the name of Merlin that this woman could pick up the book and put it on her head without getting zapped. But, as Narcissa leaned down to retrieve it, an awful sense of weakness overwhelmed Cassidy. She kept getting thrown down on the floor like a dog that had behaved badly, and albeit she kept trying to perfect whatever Narcissa was teaching her, she could not. She felt that, as a failure, she would be miserable. She _had_ to get this down or something would be taken out of her in a chunk with a meat cleaver.

There was a small, sharp intake of breath as Narcissa put her fingertips on the side of the book and gently lifted it in the air, taking her time, both women following the trail of the book with their eyes. Cassidy was hungry for Narcissa's mistake, but she knew it would never come.

When the book was finally balanced on the blonde's head, Narcissa walked around the table in a smooth walk that was noted with confidence, while Cassidy watched in a secret kind of jealously. Narcissa stopped in front of Cassidy, who was breathing quite slowly and thinking how long it would take her to do something as extraordinary as that and not get zapped, when Narcissa took the book with one hand, tilted it to its side and threw it on the table.

"How did you do that without being zapped?" Cassidy demanded instantly, thinking suddenly that the charm was merely set to hurt her and no one else.

"I did get shocked, girl," Narcissa said, folding her arms. "However, I have trained myself not to show the pain. In this house, that trait is just as mandatory as staying alive."

Cassidy looked at her, her thin eyebrows creased and her mind buzzing with confused thoughts. What exactly was Narcissa implying? Was there some point she was trying to desperately tell her before something happened?

Narcissa threw the book at her suddenly, and by reflex, Cassidy caught it, screamed as a shock went threw her body and promptly dropped it. Narcissa picked it up again.

"Posture and pain. Those are our next lessons. You shall be starting them immediately."

And Cassidy knew, somehow, that this woman would put her through Hell, but Cassidy would force herself to become better and rise higher than Narcissa, because beating someone who was seemingly perfect just _had_ to be the ultimate goal.

_-x-x-x-_

_**December 19**_

_**10 Days later**_

Cassidy bit her lip, hoping she would get this down pat. After ten tedious and exhausting days with a very strict and easily upset Malfoy, she had practiced this whenever she got a free moment, and it wasn't working.

She and Narcissa were standing in the Main foyer, waiting for the door to open. Lucius was coming home, just for today, and along with him he was bringing a social worker who had dealt with cases like Cassidy's before.

What Cassidy did not know was that although the Malfoys were technically her Godparents, she had living relatives who were going to fight for her in hopes of raising her until she could remember everything about the Wizarding World and become her old self again (not that she knew her old self—this was just how she acted because it was how she depicted herself to be). These people were kind-hearted, loving and a large, joyful family, though incredibly poor: the Weasleys.

Straight-backed and holding her head up with confidence that she really did not possess, Cassidy snuck a glace at Narcissa, who seemed cool and collected but was simply staring at the door. Cassidy was standing a little behind the woman, and hoped that when she met this 'incredible' husband of Narcissa's, he was nicer than she was.

Ten days. Cassidy had learned _a lot_ in ten days. A lot of things that she was constantly reprimanded for forgetting when they reviewed the previous lesson, and things she left out that could greatly improve her first impression, but were not mandatory. Narcissa wanted her to be perfect, but Cassidy wasn't exactly sure she could be.

She had chosen her attire meticulously, and experimented with the make-up she had found while poking through drawers in the lavatory. She tried to cover up the scars she had found randomly on her body, as if she had been in some vicious fight; there was the cut on her lip that was nearly healed, the fading bruise underneath her eye that she covered easily with make-up (since it was already light), and moreover cuts and scratches.

Narcissa had approved, not by words, but by smiling in agreement on her choice of clothing. Cassidy had picked a dark blue dress that wasn't too fancy, but it matched her eyes perfectly. And furthermore, she liked it a lot because it didn't restrict her breathing like all the other clothing did. Her hair was left down, but she cleverly pulled back a sliver of hair behind each ear and tied it on the crown of her ebony head. Frankly, she thought she looked all right. She hoped she would impress.

Suddenly, Narcissa let out something around a low whine, almost as if a dog was asking to be let out. She turned to Cassidy quickly.

"They're coming up the steps now, Lucius and the gentleman that is accompanying him. Remember _everything_ I taught you; be calm and quiet, and do not speak or—" She stopped suddenly when the doorknob turned and light poured into the cavernous room.

In walked Lucius Malfoy, followed by a shrewd-looking man with thin brown hair and a slightly stooped figure, who was scribbling furiously on the clipboard he was holding, ink splashing his cheeks.

At the sight of Lucius, Cassidy nearly burst out in hysterical laughter. He had a long, narrow face and cruel-looking eyes, but that wasn't what amused her. It was his long, silky blonde hair that could rival Narcissa's, tied back into a _bow_

Cassidy could barely contain herself; she slammed her hand over her mouth and tried desperately to contain the giggles in her throat. Narcissa shot her a dangerous look as she and Lucius embraced for a moment, and Cassidy quickly lowered her hand, but the smirk lingered on her face like the musty smell after rainfall.

Lucius and Narcissa parted and he lead Narcissa and the social worker across the room, leaving Cassidy standing there stupidly.

_Mr. Wears-his-hair-in-a-bow is quite rude_, Cassidy thought, her grin widening, and she couldn't suppress a snort. She stifled the sound quickly and hurried after the almost silent group.

Lucius opened the door for Narcissa and the social worker before entering the room himself, pulling the door closed with a slam behind him. Cassidy stopped abruptly where she was, nearly five feet from the door.

She stood for a moment, unsure of what to do; she ultimately decided that she would wait outside the room (she was sure they were greeting each other over cups of steaming coffee). She walked to the nearest set of chairs; the main foyer was littered with tables and seats, couches to lounge on and things that were interesting to look at.

She was there for about ten minutes when there was a rumble from somewhere in another room nearby, before a crash was heard, followed by silence. Cassidy sprung up, ready to investigate, when she heard cries of angry accusations. Footsteps followed and Cassidy heard them enter the other set of doors inside the room.

Sullen that she was left out of the excitement, Cassidy sat down slowly.

She had been sitting for a minute or two, staring at the pillar across the hall, when there was an odd noise to the right of her. She turned and looked over; there was a long hall with a set of tall doors at the end. They looked tiny as they were engulfed by the invisible vanishing point.

The noise grew louder, and Cassidy was positive that there was something down there. She stood, still grasping the claw of the arm of her chair, staring down the hall, her heart rate picking up suddenly. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and how loud and ragged her breathing was.

The hallway was dark as a cloud passed over the sun, the rays pouring through the windows suddenly dissolved into the darkness. Then, there was an odd flicker of light near a window pane, then another above it, and suddenly an unnaturally bright light came in splintering sheets. An eerie, echoing and haunting voice sounded.

Cassidy stared forward, terrified of what was happening.

The splintered sheets suddenly gave way, a burst of light following, and when she blinked there was someone in the hall.

To be precise, that someone was Cassidy herself, though looking much older and translucent, as if she were a ghost. Her body was splintered in light, running and screaming something, though the voice came in dull, low tones. Quite suddenly, she heard her own voice clearly, sounding scared and desperate.

"_—WEASLEYS, NO—_"

And her voice was gone again as it faded into the shadows, the image of her body falling apart in sheets and splinters as it was wiped away from the sunlight pouring through the windows again.

The haunting voice that had been ringing in the hall was gone, though it lingered in her head, raising the hair all over her body.

Cassidy slowly sat down, her body shaking, her breath shallow. She stared down the hall, grasping the arm of the chair tightly as she tried to calm herself.

She tried to focus on anything but the scene that had just happened before her very eyes, but there was nothing except the deafening silence that was pounding against her head. She closed her eyes, acutely aware that she could hear the fight taking place in the other room, but she couldn't focus. She _needed_ to clear her mind.

She took a deep breath; _focus on the fight_, she told herself sternly. _Don't think about anything else but the fight. Don't let your damn mind wander._

She tried as hard as she could, and listened with concentration, noting the detailed thoughts streaming through her head as she sat in the silence.

There was silence in the sitting room. She could hear the brief silences and then the rapid pickup of talking, occasionally an angry yell and a demand for someone (she couldn't quite pick up the name without walking in there and asking), and the smooth, prompt response from Narcissa. Her cold voice, however polite and controlled it was, quieted the visitors immediately and she started talking again. A new voice, however familiar it sounded, started speaking. It was low, though smooth and silky and well enunciated, and took control and kept speaking for several minutes.

There was silence again, and then the distinctive, high voice of one of the visitors before Narcissa interrupted, and then the social worker yelled at all of them. Monotonous tones followed before there was a pregnant pause.

Again came the low noise, almost as if it were a murmur, and then footsteps followed. The door opened, and Cassidy was aware that she was leaning forward, trying to hear every word of the conversation from her seat nearly twenty feet from the door, despite the fact she had been terrified of some apparition almost ten minutes earlier.

It was the social worker gentleman. "Come on in here for a moment, please," he said, his voice coldly professional. He turned and went back in, but left the door slightly open. Cassidy cautiously approached it, and taking a deep breath to rid her of her suddenly shot nerves, she opened it fully and took a step in.

She was right, she noted, taking a glance at the glasses in both Narcissa's and Lucius' hands. They both had teacups, along with the social worker, and two for the two visitors, though they remained untouched.

The two new people were redheaded and weary looking, both looking at Cassidy in awe and fear. They wore ragged clothing, patches covering random spots on their cloaks, and soot staining their faces. Cassidy thought immediately they looked extremely out of place and awkward in the elegant Malfoy Manor.

"Now," the social worker said, breaking her out of her reverie. Cassidy looked over at him. "Miss—" He looked down at his sheet in hand– "Valeska, I know you were excluded from the majority of this, er, meeting, but to end it ultimately, we need an answer from you.

"These people here are the Weasleys. They have come to argue for your custody for a few years until you have possessed enough knowledge to live on your own. They have a nice, um, house out in the country, with seven children."

(new paragraph)

The woman went to interrupt him, but the social worker kept speaking, glancing at Narcissa and Lucius, who both looked very pleased.

"You have been living here for quite a while so therefore you know about the Malfoys and their way of living." The social worker picked up his papers and stacked them neatly on the table in front of him before taking a solitary paper and holding an ink-dipped quill over it.

"Now, Miss Valeska, I am here to ask you which family you would prefer to stay with. Be aware that you must live with them for about five years, unless I have given permission otherwise for you to leave. It is essential that you are raised to learn about the world and have your own views, knowledge and conscience, and living with either family will help you to that ultimate goal."

The social worker put his quill to the paper and looked back at her, waiting for the answer from her lips. "Well?" he asked expectantly.

Cassidy looked from the Malfoys—a rich, fancy and prestigious family—and then to the Weasleys—poor, many children and a house out on the country. Cassidy knew virtually nothing about the Weasleys; for all she knew, they could be an abusive family who neglected their children and didn't have enough money for clothes or heat or food.

But then again, so could the Malfoys.

Sure, they had the money; she wasn't worried about that. But it was the crueler part she thought about for a brief moment. Suppose she was abused? Would she ever be able to move in with the Weasley family?

She opened her mouth to ask that exact question, but she caught the dangerous, irate look that Narcissa sent her. The gaping hole that had been her parted lips shut abruptly, leaving Cassidy with her grumbling thoughts. _Never ask questions, just do as you're told_. Another lesson nailed into her as she was punished many times for being curious.

"I'll stay with the Malfoys," she said, after another hesitant moment.

She knew she would stay alive, be fed and have nice clothing with them. She would have Narcissa driving her up the wall with her annoying education. But then, if she had gone with the Weasleys, she would've given up the lessons and let Narcissa win. It wasn't a completely fair deal, but she guessed, in the end, staying with the Malfoys would be better.

Her statement was followed by several long, awkward moments of silence that were thick, with tension flowing in waves around her as everyone looked at her. She was suddenly aware that the two Weasleys, the man and his wife, were staring wide-eyed at, almost as if they were shocked that she would make such a decision.

The social worker slowly lowered his quill back to the paper and started writing. Cassidy looked over at Narcissa and Lucius; Narcissa's husband had his arm draped over her shoulders on the back of the cushion, her legs crossed, her body erect despite the fact she was sitting. There was no smile on her face, no smirk of triumph. She looked calm and quite impassive.

But Lucius… There was no emotion on his face either, no. There was just a look; something so odd she could not describe. She narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched his casual, superlative smile that was tossed at the Weasleys. No, it was not a smile, but it was not a smirk either. The corners of his lips were upturned, but it wasn't a gesture of acknowledgement, or politeness, or kindness. It was the silky, dominant look that was just… _there_.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, you shall receive her certificate in the post promptly a week from now. Please, try to teach her a few things about the world she'll be living in. Hire a tutor, if you wish. I know financial aid is not a problem for _you_," the social worker said. Cassidy saw him smirk faintly before packing his papers away.

She stole a glance at the Weasleys; they looked furious.

"Well, you know where the fireplace is," Narcissa said arrogantly to the redheaded adults, giving them a contemptuous look. She stood and walked over to Cassidy and grabbed her upper arm tightly.

The Weasleys stood, threw ugly looks at the two Malfoys, and walked out of the room. "Don't let the fire singe you on the way through," Lucius said very softly as the door shut, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph.

Narcissa pulled her through the doors, and Cassidy was afraid that she would stop all circulation by her vice grip.

"That was an excellent performance, you remembered all that I have taught you," Narcissa said, her voice low as she pulled Cassidy into a hallway and up the corridor. "I am pleased with your decision; from now on, you'll be living with the supreme family of the Wizarding world: the Malfoys."

An odd chill suddenly drifted up her spine as she listened to that statement.

_Living with the Malfoys…_

She swallowed the scared lump that was in her throat quite suddenly. All at once, she could think of nothing besides the phrase.

_Oh no,_ she thought suddenly, as the apparition of herself came to mind again. _What have I done?_

_**-  
-x-x-x-  
-**_

**Author's Notes: **Yay! Successful chapter! Next time, the fun starts. More excitement will _definitely_ be coming because I think half the chapter is Narcissa teaching her some more, and then the Hogwarts holidays, which means Draco!

Thank you to **Kels **, miss Laughable Black Storm, for betaing this for me! You're a doll! xD

And don't forget to** review!!**


	6. Break

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, just Cassidy and Troy and those few insignificant others… most of which will become significant later.

Well, I'm a bit sorry for not having this out sooner! **This is where the story will kick off.** I just wanted to let you know that from now on, things are going to get a hell of a lot more confusing, and prepare for the worst…

**And this chapter will be half interview, and then the rest will be her story.**

_-x-x-x-_

**Chapter summary**: Ginny questions a lot of how Narcissa's teachings have affected Cassidy after all these years, and the quiet girl can do nothing but reflect painfully also. Ginevra Potter can only pick out the clues so far to the puzzle she needs to fix, and all Cassidy has to do is hold onto her sanity when they plunge back into one of her most painful and influential memories… meeting Draco.

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731**

((--Chapter Six--))  
Break

_**January 2006**_

Ginny was muttering furiously to herself, the feather to her quill zooming back and forth across the wad of paper where she had written notes excessively, in lists, columns, and shoved in any free spot she could fit or find. Clearly, she was trying to save as much parchment as she could.

Cassidy thought this was for good reason: her story was a long one, and Ginny would need to do a lot more than take notes. What she had to tell, well, it wasn't pretty. And nothing, no words could hold the true meaning, the true _feeling_ of what poured out of her memory.

And somehow Cassidy knew that when this time came, and it would _very quickly_, that Ginevra Potter would not attempt to write anything down, but gape in disbelief instead.

There were empty tea cups pushed near the edge of the table, and a waitress came by and picked them up, clinking together the sides and looking at Cassidy expectantly. She ordered two more silently, and the waitress left again.

She tucked a lock of her raven hair behind her ears, her eyes darting to the window; the fog was clearing slowly, and lurking figures could be seen. Nervously, she looked down. She didn't want to start thinking about the possibilities of being found, and telling her story, nonetheless. She didn't want _him_ to come around again, to have his eyes spark in malicious delight while she had to close her eyes to keep herself away from insanity.

She just wanted him to stay away… for good.

But she knew it would never happen, and she knew she _never_ had a chance from hiding from him. She was surprised she had lasted this long with her children, only being discovered by her husband. Cassidy had to just keep holding on to the string of hope that had gotten tangled in her pitiful life.

And she knew that it was going to break soon. She wasn't safe for long—this was why she wanted to tell _everything_ to Ginny, and quick. And maybe—

_It's not like they've found out more than you_, her mind said sharply. She didn't argue with herself, but she knew that her information was stronger… and her ideas, well, they wouldn't go unnoticed.

Anything about Hermione Granger these days _never_ went unnoticed.

"Okay, so let me ask you a few questions," Ginny muttered, flipping back and forth between different sheets of paper and shifting her ink-stained finger across them. Her hand stopped, her fingertip poised: Ginny looked up, her face rather hard.

"I need you to explain as best you can, all right?" Cassidy nodded after a moment. "After the attack on Poland, you were kidnapped, and brought to that—that _place_. Voldemort did something to you, and everything was wiped out, except for the vague suspicions of what was left in that nightmare of yours. And then, all of that painful stuff." Cassidy didn't exactly see the question in this; she raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Why is it this happened the night of, and following investigations of the night that—" Ginny paused, and she glanced down at the table, clenching her jaw, drawing her strength together; "—that Hermione Granger committed suicide?"

Cassidy smiled, only a little. She didn't believe that Ginny had said that so freely. Only because it was written down, and all that the government could prove—at the moment, anyways. Ginny was an AIT, an Auror in Training, and all this reporting business was merely for classified information, so therefore, in order to receive information, she could not deal out opinions, merely justified facts.

But it was mutual this time, wasn't it?

"Is that really what you think?" Cassidy asked quietly. Ginny frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Cassidy leaned across the table without a moment's hesitation. If there was one thing she had learned, every wall, every surface, every person had ears against her.

"Do you think it was suicide?"

Ginny was still, and her eyes were round. The stony look Cassidy had on her face was not meant to hurt her, but it did. Perhaps Cassidy knew of the torment it would bring back to the surface, or perhaps she didn't. Was she really asking for an opinion, or a person to help in the convincing the world that it was murder, not suicide?

"That's not information, Cassidy, it's an opinion. I'm in training to be a government protector, so therefore—"

"But you see, I'm not asking the _reporter_. I'm asking the seventeen year old girl who was there to see Hermione die." Ginny was white.

"I didn't see it," she choked out. "Ron did." Cassidy cast her eyes to the table.

"You and Harry—"

"The rocks. The—the _explosions_. We—" But she couldn't say anything more. She pressed her palms firmly to her eyes for a moment, and then blinked, eyes glossy but her eyes harder.

"Even still," Cassidy continued on, as if she could care nothing for the painful memory that was ripping Ginny in two to think about; "Ron saw it. I've seen the reports after his words. Any information he wished to withhold was given to you and Harry, I _know_ it. _Tell me what you think_."

It was unnerving how suddenly fierce Cassidy looked. Her expression had not changed much, but she was gripping the table, and her lips were parted, her breath louder. There was no anger, but maybe… desperation? Ginny couldn't tell, but the _determined_ look on her face was driving the redhead mad with curiosity and an urge to walk away as fast as she could.

"There were other forces, so no, I don't think it was suicide," Ginny said suddenly. She glanced around, as if trying to catch any eavesdroppers. "But I won't say anything else on that matter. It's—"

"Concealed information. I know," Cassidy cut across, lips pointed downwards and her fingers drumming the table, only to stop suddenly. She pulled her hand out of sight, and placed it between her knees.

"Anyway," Ginny sputtered. She had lost track of what her point was, and what her topic of interrogation would be. She flipped the pages again, her fingers zipping across them until they stopped suddenly.

"I wanted to ask you previously, before we had gotten into that bit of… I need to know if you remembered anything from that night at all," Ginny said.

"No you didn't," Cassidy corrected her automatically. "You wanted to know why everything happened to me on that night, and following investigations of Halloween."

"Oh," Ginny said suddenly, frowning. "Yes, you're right. I must've… but tell me why, please."

"Well, I actually haven't a clue as to why it happened. Perhaps it was because well, Hermione and I—" Cassidy leaned closer, and Ginny's face suddenly flashed with understanding.

"You were both—_special_. A certain type of…" Ginny made a gesture that was rather obscure, but Cassidy nodded.

"Yes. I would think that was the main reason, for the Dark Lord wanted Hermione for one thing specifically, and me for another," she said, looking at her fingernails.

Ginny scribbled down some notes and stopped suddenly. "What were the reasons?"

Cassidy looked up, almost blankly. "Hermione for her power, and me for—" She stopped and bit her lip. "I can't tell you the rest."

"You _have to_, Cassidy," Ginny urged. She suddenly reached forward and clicked a little button. The grinding noise stopped. The café seemed oddly quiet without it.

"Tell me," Ginny said. Cassidy's face remained as it was: impassive, but her eyes were darker than usual. "_Please_."

Cassidy leaned across the table, not for the first time that day, and motioned with her hand. Ginny placed her ear near Cassidy's mouth. "I am to be the undying solider, the ultimate defender of the Dark Lord."

She pulled back quickly, and the little color that had been in her cheeks was gone. She pursed her lips for a second, but then she was quite colorless and blank as she was before.

"And are you?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide.

Slowly, Cassidy shrugged. "So far." She cast her eyes down at the table. "But at the moment, I'm in hiding, so anything I do is to keep myself hidden."

Ginny said nothing else, but merely stared at the woman before her. She fidgeted, and then hit another button, and the grinding noise resumed.

"Seeing as that was pointless to ask you," Ginny said, and Cassidy understood. She needed to fool the Auror's out of knowing what Cassidy had told her. She knew telling Ginny had not been a mistake—it would go to the right hands, and pass through the right ears.

"I would like you to tell me what I asked before," Ginny told her, taking up her quill again. "Do you remember anything else from that night?"

"Nothing more than I told you," Cassidy replied, her voice suddenly much colder than it had been. Ginny gave her a questioning look, to which Cassidy's face only hardened.

Ginny looked at her perplexedly for a moment, but then started scribbling furiously again, as if the world would end and it all depended on the efficiency of her notes whether a savior would come. She wrote and did not stop nor pause for several minutes, cramming in little lists and words into random spaces in which she could fit before she was forced to go to another page.

Ginny put down the quill and looked up again, her lips frowning slightly. "Tell me about Narcissa up until Lucius came into the picture."

"He never really _came_ into the picture until Draco did, which was Christmas break, my first Christmas with the Malfoys," Cassidy explained, her voice rather flat. Ginny nodded.

"Narcissa was a strict teacher: she was firm, she did not waste time on foolishness and excessive mistakes. She punished when the time called for it, and she rewarded when she thought proper." Cassidy laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her fingertips.

"You said she hit you, and a fair few times," Ginny commented, a rather contemptuous look on her face.

Cassidy actually threw back her head and gave a little derisive laugh. "Narcissa _cuffed _me. It was a slight slap on the shoulder for saying something rude, if you will. No one actually _hit_ me until Lucius got down to business with me and set me straight."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny said immediately, looking alarmed.

Cassidy's face was colder, and she looked mutinous at the memory that she was no doubt shortly reliving. "You'll see."

Ginny seemed to dwell on this dark statement for only a short time before she started asking questions, sounding crisp and professional.

"And what about Draco?" Her face wrinkled in distaste, and Cassidy could only conceal her smirk.

"When I met him during break, he was arrogant and easily angered. He was hiding something, I knew it almost immediately. But he seemed to enjoy his mother fawning over him and his wound, and tried to subtly stray away from his father. Not physically, but he didn't look at him, tried not to get involved in any conversations and seemed to glare at the back of Lucius' head whenever he got the chance," Cassidy said offhandedly, as if this were a memorized speech and it was only a matter of reciting it clearly.

"His wound?" Ginny repeated. Cassidy gave her a look.

"You know what I'm talking about, Ginny." Ginny made no indication that she even heard Cassidy speak these words. "From Halloween," Cassidy said quietly.

"When did you find out about those?" Ginny questioned, taking up her quill and writing something down.

The ebony haired woman was pensive for a moment. "I'd say about a year later. Of course I had heard bits and pieces of conversations, both from Draco and, erm, _other_ sources, but I got it out of Draco's cousin a year into living with the Malfoys."

"You said you knew that he was hiding something when he came. Did you confront him about it?"

Cassidy's eyes flashed, and she suppressed a smile. "I did. He told me, boasted to me really, that he had been attacked viciously by a hippogriff, and when I asked him if I could actually _see_ the wound, I could tell that it wasn't from a creature of any sort. It was too clean and too straight to be from talons or a beak. I knew it had been a stabbing of some sort."

"And did Malfoy—Draco, sorry, did he get angry?" Ginny inquired at once.

"Yes, very angry. He told me something that hurt quite a bit. More than anything else, actually. It's ironic when I think about it." Cassidy glanced out the foggy window again, breathing deeply. She would not meet Ginny's eyes.

"How so?" the redhead asked.

"Because, compared to everything else I've lived through, it should be something that I wouldn't even dwell on. But… I was innocent then. I had no idea what was going to happen to me, and his words hurt me more than any cuff or insult Narcissa had thrown at me."

"What did he say?" Ginny asked in a hushed voice, her quill quivering but not moving. She had forgotten to keep taking notes.

Cassidy smiled grimly.

_-x-x-x-_

_**December 1997**_

Narcissa was too anxious, and it bothered Cassidy. It was only her _son_ coming home, for Merlin's sake. The boy wasn't the king of the world, or deathly ill. It was just Christmas break!

But she wasn't about to say anything or give any indication that she was longing to scoff. She wasn't about to let Narcissa know that she was annoying to the point of driving Cassidy up the wall. It would've given the Malfoy enough power to smirk and tell the girl to suck it up.

They weren't in the main foyer this time, but in the sitting room that the Malfoys had fought against the Weasleys in. There was tea, Cassidy noted with a slight smirk; china cups with rich steaming liquid, brown and swirling with cream. Gold and silver outlined the saucers and the cups in little intricate designs, and each curve of the porcelain delicate and quaint.

Lucius was scheduled to come home and to bring his son with him, and be here in five minutes. According to Narcissa, punctuality was everything, and Lucius would enter with their son in five minutes on the dot.

Their son. Narcissa had ranted _non-stop_ for hours during the past week that Cassidy knew enough to write the bloke's life history. His name was Draco, (a name that earned Cassidy's sniggers) he was tall, just as beautiful and perfect as Narcissa and Lucius combined, intelligent and athletic and popular. He was well known, quite the younger version of Lucius himself and a witches' man.

Cassidy had remained silent through the telling of his history, but couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at her words. When she had asked to see a picture or a portrait or something that had Draco on it, Narcissa snapped that she couldn't.

For he was much handsomer in person.

And at that statement, she had earned a sharp cuff for snorting openly.

But now they were sitting on cushioned sofas, made of some soft leathery material that Cassidy didn't think possible to make. However, she sat comfortably, and sipped on her tea, waiting for Perfect Husband Lucius and Perfect Son Draco.

She rolled her eyes at this thought, and shifted in her seat, pulling at her dress.

She was not allowed to pick out her own attire that morning, for Narcissa had been livid when Cassidy had picked out the same outfit she had worn weeks ago for the trial meeting thing. Narcissa had literally torn it off of Cassidy, leaving her in her undergarments.

But now, she was wearing a bottle green dress, tighter than the last one had been and Narcissa was quite intent on making her wear a more updated version of a corset, something Cassidy had opposed to immediately… only to find Narcissa lacing her up five minutes later.

It _did_ make her figure look nice, but she bloody couldn't breathe! It was so tight around her chest that her bust was pushed up and tied so tightly that she couldn't fill her lungs at all.

She had only learned to breathe by quick little breaths that filled her stomach rather than her lungs. It worked, but Cassidy was not pleased with having to convert to this.

Her hair was tied in a silky bun on the base of her neck, little slivers of curly ebony hair falling from her forehead, only to be pushed back constantly around her ears.

There was a noise, more precisely, an echo from the foyer, and Narcissa sat up suddenly in her seat. A little pop was heard, the scuffling of feet, and then the little squeaky voice of a house elf.

Footsteps, and then the shift of the doorknob as the door opened.

Cassidy smirked to herself; _oh no! The end of the world is here!_ she thought sarcastically to herself, stifling a laugh.

Narcissa kissed each of Lucius' cheeks and welcomed him back. He kissed her in return, and went and sat on the sofa opposite Cassidy, where Narcissa was sitting. She smiled awkwardly at Lucius, who glared at her quite openly.

Turning away to see if she could glimpse Draco, Cassidy thought, _Lucius is still wearing the bow, I see_.

It sounded as if Narcissa squealed in delight as she nearly attacked Draco. But Cassidy knew better. Narcissa would not squeal because 'it sounded like a pig,' which was something that the Malfoy woman _simply_ could not have.

"Mother, please." Draco's voice was deep, not sounding as dangerous as his father's and slightly amused.

"Oh Draco, how _are _you? I do hope you're alright after, well, you know. Please, tell me how it has been for you in school? Are you excused from the appropriate subjects for your injury?" Narcissa was flooding him with questions.

"Mother, I'm fine," he answered back in a clipped tone.

His mother gave a little sigh. "Fine, then. Into the parlor now."

Narcissa and her son came back into view, and upon viewing Draco, Cassidy suddenly agreed with all of Narcissa's bragging.

Draco was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. He had gleaming silvery eyes, much like Lucius, and his hair was the same whitish blonde as Narcissa's. It was combed back, but slivers had fallen over his eyes, to which he tossed his head a bit to move them.

He was dressed entirely in black, bringing out his pale complexion even more. He quirked an eyebrow the moment he caught sight of Cassidy, and she noticed how sharp his face was.

She stood up at once. "Hello," she said nervously. She saw Lucius sneer at her from the corner of her eyes.

Draco moved forward and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. "And who would you be?"

"Erm…" Her eyes were drawn suddenly to the bulk of his arm, where it appeared he had his arm in a sling. She wondered what had happened to him briefly. "I'm Cassidy. Valeska," she added quickly, flushing.

His lips turned to a smirk; "Pleasure," he said, his eyes sweeping over her. "Draco Malfoy," he added, giving her a nod and a suggestive look.

Cassidy sat down, her hands fidgeting, and Draco sat next to her. He turned and gave his mother a little questioning glance, to which she gave a tiny shake. He seemed to understand and made no further silent inquires.

Narcissa sat beside her husband and handed him the tea and saucer. Lucius' eyes were glued on Cassidy, though hostilely. His lip was curled and he did not look too pleased about something.

"Really, Narcissa, why is she dressed so extravagantly? I said to give her _clothing_, not gold and silver to parade about in," Lucius said, glaring at Cassidy and then giving his wife an angered look.

_Nice to meet you too_, Cassidy thought dryly. She and Draco exchanged a look, and it seemed to the Malfoy heir that this was not surprising.

"Well, Lucius," Narcissa started, sounding slightly careful about her words. "I thought it appropriate since she was meeting both you and Draco." Which was, in fact, entirely true, Cassidy hadn't a doubt about that.

"If you had though that would change my outlook, it did not. Fashion will not move my opinion," he drawled, throwing Cassidy a distasteful look.

Now really, what had she done?

Narcissa looked slightly frustrated, but did nothing to defend Cassidy anymore. She was still for a moment, before she snapped her fingers. With a crack, a house elf appeared.

"Bonny, bring us something to eat," Narcissa ordered.

"Yes miss," the little creature squeaked, and disappeared once again. Cassidy frowned at its automatic obedience.

"I wouldn't bother with food, Narcissa," Lucius said. He gave Cassidy another dirty look, and stood. "I'm too disgusted to eat." And he walked out of the room, clutching a long, thin cane with a silver snake head.

Narcissa rolled her eyes a bit, stood up and followed Lucius out of the room, leaving Cassidy and Draco in silence.

She looked awkwardly at him, and he smirked slightly. "I don't think your father likes me very much," she said quietly, and gave a nervous little laugh.

"I can tell," he agreed. There was a moment of awkward silence (for Cassidy anyways), and she shifted around a bit while Draco took his sweet old time looking the girl over.

He had never seen her, never met her, never heard of her. But he sure as hell didn't mind having her live in his manor. She wasn't so bad on the eyes, and there were plenty of things _he_ could do (preferably _to_ her) during break and during the summer if he ever got bored.

Smirking to himself a bit, he could tell that this break would be a _very _boring one if he didn't do anything about it.

"So why are you here, exactly?" Draco questioned her, sounding polite.

She chewed her lip for a moment. "Apparently my parents are dead and your parents are my Godparents," she said as casually as if they were talking about the weather.

"Your parents are dead?" Cassidy nodded.

"It's alright, I can't even remember them. There was this huge accident or something, I don't really know any details, and they died and I lost my memory completely," she told him, and gave a little shrug.

"When was this accident, do you know?" He leaned forward slightly, putting his good arm on the back of the sofa, and his arm was draped so it was nearly touching her. She looked at his arm warily for a second before speaking.

"I _think_ it was a few days before Halloween, but I'm not really sure. I woke up on the fifteenth of November," she said. "I was in a coma," she added after a moment to his curious look.

"Now tell me," Cassidy said. "What happened to you? Surely your arm hasn't been like that forever."

He smirked at this and leaned to her a bit closer, a smug look on his face. "Well you see, my father had taken me on a bit of a break from school, and since I'm _Head Boy_ it gets _very_ overwhelming sometimes. Everyone is always asking me for help and opinions and advice—" He gave a little dramatic sigh. "In need of entertainment we came across some Hippogriffs, and they uh, attacked me. Nearly lost my arm," he bragged to her, taking off the shoulder of his cloak with his good hand. He undid the top buttons to his shirt and revealed his shoulder and arm.

He was all bandaged up around the neck, and his arm was literally strapped to his side while gauze was slung under his shoulder, across his collarbone and around his neck.

She delicately touched the heap that was tied tightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"It attacked you here?" she murmured, her fingers grazing over it.

His smirk widened, and he ran his fingers through his hair and winked at her. "I nearly _died_, but my father bought the best doctors, not that it was a problem, we've got loads of money, and they pretty much brought me back from the dead."

She gaped at him a little, as if astonished and impressed, but she wasn't fooled. If a hippogriff had _really_ attacked him, it would've injured a lot more than his neck. Even if it had made a lunge at him and giving him minor damage, it would not just be that specific area.

"And did it hurt your arm here too?" she questioned. She really didn't know why she was pretending to act so stupidly, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention. She was just inflating his ego, she could tell. And she would need to shut her mouth sometime soon.

"No. I managed to fight it off after it hurt my neck. That's the only thing that's wounded. It's pretty deep," he said, and this time he shifted so obviously that he was so close their legs were touching. Cassidy found this slightly suspicious, and only found it weirder when he casually draped his arm on the back of the sofa, and therefore on the back of her shoulders.

She raised her eyebrows, and suddenly stood up. "Well, I wonder what prompted them to attack you. Perhaps they were rabid?" she asked, striding towards the door. She turned and looked back at Draco, who looked sullen.

She smirked to herself and walked out, knowing that he was hurriedly following her.

_-x-x-x-_

They were in the main library, and she was searching around for the H section. She doubted she would find it, for she was stuck in the N's and couldn't find an H for the life of her.

Draco was watching her scurry around with little amusement. He just wanted her back over where he was so he could flirt with her a bit more. She was pretty, a fair catch and it was entertainment he wanted.

She paused after a moment, and huffing, went and sat opposite him at a desk. She looked frustrated. "This library is too big, I can't find anything in here," she complained. At first, the thought of Narcissa snapping at her to suck it up flashed through her mind, but she was with Draco, so did manners matter?

"I honestly don't see why you wanted a book anyways," he said. She frowned.

"To see what kind of things would prompt an attack on you, that's what," she told him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to find anything in here unless you searched for days," he drawled.

"I would too!" she argued, standing up and turning around. She looked about. "Now, if I was over _there_, perhaps the H would be somewhere around…" She drifted off in thought for a moment.

Draco took this opportunity to do something to his favor. He stood, taking the few necessary steps next to her and placing a hand very low on her waist. She turned around abruptly, winding herself closer to him, and ending up less than a foot from his body.

"You know," he said in a low voice, husky almost; "that dress compliments your figure magnificently."

She blinked, eyes wide. She was silent. He coiled the sliver of her ebony hair that had fallen from behind her ears, tucking it back again and leaned towards her, but—

"_Boy_," snarled a voice, sounding suspiciously like Lucius. Draco jumped back from Cassidy, who was asking herself in an astounding silence if Draco had nearly kissed her.

Draco's expression darkened at the sight of his father, livid and looking murderous, striding into the room. "I'll have a word with you, _Draco_. This _moment_," he spat, and stormed out again.

Draco gave an aggravated sigh, and with obvious reluctance strode out of the massive library after his father, muttering under his breath.

Cassidy watched them go, confused and trying to calm her pounding heart. She had only just _met_ Draco a few hours ago, and he made a pass at her! Really, was he always like this?

She did not find out what was wrong by dinner, which was, almost entirely, a tense, quiet meal. All she could hear was the clinking of silverware and china before Narcissa was fussing over her son.

Cassidy was diagonal from Narcissa, who was to the right of Lucius. He was occupying the head of the table, and Draco was to his mother's left, Cassidy across from him. Draco did _not_ look to happy about something, and he was glancing at his father darkly every few moments. Cassidy was tempted to ask, but at the moment she was trying to concentrate on which fork to eat the salad with, (Narcissa was watching her out of the corner of her eyes) and it was, so far, appearing to be a difficult task.

Cassidy had no doubt that Narcissa would continue to teach her everything about elegance and proper _everything_ until the girl got it down perfectly. She knew it was going to be a very long time, and while she was educated in more important matters, mistakes would be handled harsher.

However, Cassidy had no idea of what punishments were to come. She knew nothing of the plans that Lucius had in store for her, and because of his, shall we say, _home _employment, every moment would be spent on her.

And soon she would know that these moments would be more painful than she could imagine.

At that moment, a steaming soup was laid out for the four of them, and Cassidy suddenly found herself nervous as her hands grazed over the multiple utensils that she could use. She had only a brief mention of which fork or spoon to eat with, and even if it didn't entirely matter to a common person, it mattered to Narcissa, and if it mattered to her, the Malfoy would make it matter to Cassidy.

The girl touched one spoon, and looked up at the blonde woman. Narcissa glared at her; Cassidy's hand switched to another, and Narcissa's angry look stayed the same. Cassidy grabbed the last one, and finally, there was no hostility left, and the girl could eat.

However, even though Narcissa had never mentioned the area of proper dining once, Cassidy could never forget the horrified, disgusted look when the girl had woken up from her coma and simply devoured the delicious soup, throwing all manners and first impressions into the wind. Cassidy would _not_ have Narcissa looking at her that way again.

So most of the meal was focused on trying to eat as lightly and as carefully as possible. She watched the constant interaction between Narcissa and Draco with mild interest, finding nothing else to do besides that, and watching how she lifted her spoon.

Narcissa was fussing very dramatically over Draco, asking him if he wanted help eating, if she could do anything in the world to help him, if he was alright, did his arm hurt? Bombarding him with questions like she had in the parlor, she could see Draco reacting the same way. Or nearly, at least.

He wasn't fighting her wholeheartedly. The corners of his mouth were uplifted, so it wasn't quite a smirk or a smile, just a subtly pleasant look. He did nothing to fight off his mother except the very fake "I'm _fine_," every few moments. Narcissa was beaming still, and doing everything within her power to fuss over him.

Lucius was silent nearly the entire meal, and like Cassidy, was observing his wife and his son. He disapproved of Narcissa's frivolous behavior, but truth be told, she hadn't seen Draco in so very long, and Lucius knew how much she adored their son.

So, he supposed he could allow this for now.

Cassidy however, had long given up on figuring out which spoon to which at what time, and was much more interested on watching the affection that Narcissa was displaying. After the few weeks that had flown by, the only thing she had received from Narcissa was scolding and a smack over the head many times a day. The motherly attitude she was presenting was something entirely new to the girl, and she had to admit, it was amusing almost to watch mother and son.

"So Draco," drawled Lucius, breaking the warmth between Draco and his mother. Draco's expression darkened immediately at his father's voice, and the only indication that he gave that he had even _heard_ Lucius was an acknowledging grunt.

"Is your arm anywhere near well enough for you to start playing Quidditch again?" inquired Lucius. Cassidy quirked an eyebrow at the elder Malfoy's expression, her eyes darting between father and son. Lucius looked calm, but the arch of his brow implied that he was mocking Draco about something. She looked who Draco, who looked downright pissed off.

Draco gave his head a little shake, sinking into his seat and shifting a bit, touching the bulge of his bandages. Three pairs of eyes followed this movement, and Draco suddenly scowled fiercely before then stabbing the food before him.

"Do you think, my son, that you'll be able to play this year _at all_?" Cassidy's eyes darted to Lucius; he was leaning on the tips of his fingers, the smirk on his face faint, but suggesting the cruel amusement that she could bet would linger on his face for a long time afterwards.

Draco grunted in response, giving a tiny shrug to one shoulder.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyways, does it? You could never win over Gryffindor, and with a damaged arm, do you suppose you'll get any better at the sport when your arm is healed?" Lucius said silkily, the cruel delight on his face now present and obvious. Draco, though reluctantly, raised his eyes and glared at his father.

"Well I wouldn't know, father," Draco spat, his face twisted in anger and dislike. "It's hurting so badly it's like someone _severed it with a knife_."

_This is interesting_, were Cassidy's immediate thoughts. Her eyes flicked between the arguing two like she would watch a tennis match.

Lucius' face was suddenly clouded in furious anger. He glared back at Draco, who glared fiercely back. Obviously, some bad situation had occurred between them, Cassidy guessed, and Draco was still very tender about it.

But suddenly she was being yelled at; Draco looked over at Cassidy, and at the same time Lucius did. He saw the interest and curiosity in her face, and was immediately raged. He had done too much to put at stake over the past few months, and if that girl picked up any hints, any clues that she could piece together…

"What do you think you're looking at, you foolish girl?" Lucius roared at her suddenly. Cassidy had almost expected Narcissa to sigh, and was not at all surprised when the woman did.

"Well?" Lucius demanded, slamming down his silverware. In a swift motion, he retrieved the silver-headed walking cane, and Cassidy resisted the urge to give him a sardonic expression.

_What, is he going to beat me with his walking cane or something?_ She gave a little chuckle at the thought of this.

Lucius lunged from his chair, gripping the silver snake head from his cane, but Narcissa had breathed out a warning, restricting her husband. Cassidy was not sure whether to be grateful or disappointed; what would Lucius actually _do_ if she acted out? Cassidy had to admit, she was thoroughly curious.

"Girl, get out," Narcissa ordered.

"What?" Cassidy asked in disbelief. She had done _nothing_!

"_Get out_," the woman snarled at once, almost before Cassidy had finished speaking.

Rolling her eyes in a disbelieving expression, she pushed from her chair, placed her napkin on the table and walked out of the room, muttering to herself under her breath. Honestly, what in the world had she done to deserve being sent out of the room?

She wondered into the library, after nearly a half-hour of searching, and hoped that she could manage to stay out of Lucius' way over the next few days so she could observe the fighting, for she had a dark feeling there would be a lot more of it.

_-x-x-x-_

Three days past, and Cassidy felt extremely triumphant at her guessing work. Not only did she watch Draco and Lucius radiate fury at dinner, but during the other meals of the day too. And once, Narcissa called for tea… and there was fighting.

Overall, she managed to get down her 'hiding technique', as she called it, in a day in about two meals. When she thought Lucius was at the height of his anger, or he seemed to be implying something other than the topic he was talking about, she would look at the wall or her fingernails and looked terribly bored. It was simple, actually, because all she had to do was listen. But she enjoyed deciphering their expressions, but if she got caught, she was thrown out.

She noticed that Draco was angry about something that happened a while ago, and apparently, Lucius had committed it or had been there, but had done nothing. He showed open contempt towards his father, who really seemed amused by all of it until Draco implied something else with his words. That was the time both father and son would look at Cassidy, and if she appeared to be listening, out she went.

She figured out that whatever Draco was angry about had something to do with herself, whether directly or indirectly. Anytime implications arose, Lucius got angry. Cassidy apparently was not supposed to be catching on to any of this, which made her ever the more curious. She was not only being stealthy as she sat in on their fights, but she was trying to piece together the implications she could pick up.

The last two arguments however did not seem to hold anything out of the ordinary. Lucius was not acting like a father who loved his son; in fact, he was acting much crueler than a regular parent, and he seemed to have taken a particular liking to mocking his son about his Quidditch failure. But from what Narcissa had bragged about, Draco was actually tremendous at Quidditch… but he _just_ _couldn't beat _Gryffindor.

Gryffindor: what was so special about it? Was there a certain player that made it impossible for a Slytherin victory? What was it?

Whatever it was, Draco could not win against that particular house, and Lucius seemed to take pride in throwing salt on Draco's wounds when it came to Quidditch.

At a sudden thought, she wondered if Draco would drive himself to be even better once his arm healed, just to spite his father and stop him from his sneering remarks. Cassidy knew that if she was in Draco's position, she would show Lucius up. After all, he was not a very kind person, it seemed, and it seemed right to gloat in his face after he declared that an obstacle was impossible.

She sat in the library often, looking from book-cover to book-cover for something interesting, and when something particular caught her eye, she grabbed it. But she was often prone to turning the page, but staring blankly at the words on the page, her head clouded in thought that was completely irrelevant to the book.

Lucius treated his son with cruelty etched on his face, and he seemed the sort of man that would follow a leader who wanted to murder everyone 'unworthy' enough. Draco seemed kind enough, arrogant maybe, but nice. There was great dislike turned to his father. And almost every time an argument arose, Lucius would suffocate it like he was smothering a fire if she was in the room. She had the feeling that whatever it was they were talking about, she was not to know.

And putting all these pieces together made her think. Draco was angry at his father, who took delight in the pain. But every time a double-meaning phrase occurred, he would stop the conversation and get angry. And both father and son would look to Cassidy herself. And so, she _knew_ their fighting had something to do with her… one way or another. And she wanted to find out, and she was going to, she knew that she would in time.

But _what_ could it be about, she kept asking herself. Draco must've held some knowledge about it, for he was the one that brought it up so his father could just as easily suppress it. Perhaps she could ask Draco? No, not now, it was too soon. She had only met Draco four days ago, and despite the fact that he had tried to make a move on her was not good enough of an excuse for her to go and ask him something huge and mysterious like that.

She would just have to wait until Eater break, or something like that. Surely, from than, she could build a friendship with him, and in turn, ask him what the bloody hell was going on that she didn't know about.

_He's hiding something from me_, she thought suddenly. _Lucius is. They both are._

But if the secret they were holding hurt her directly or not, she wouldn't know.

Not for a few years, anyways.

_-x-x-x-_

Draco was _stressed_. He was tired out of his mind, and he wanted to do nothing more than sink back and relax and do nothing for about the rest of time. But he couldn't. His mother was always chattering away and making a fuss over him, and even though he rather liked it, he grew weary of it very quickly.

His father wasn't helping in the least, and Draco just wanted to punch his face in at the moment. His father… his stupid, _goddamned_ father. Narcissa didn't even _know_ what Lucius had done to his _very own son_, the only _heir_ of the Malfoy fortune on Halloween night. If the Mudblood was alive, he would've already been down on his knees because she had saved him.

Well, she didn't really save him… but then, what had happened? He had been so drugged, his mind slurring that he could remember anything clearly about that night except for the pain—_god blinding me killing me this pain hurts so much_—and the cold edge of the knife against his throat.

And what, he had Hermione Granger to thank for that?

Shaking the thought of the late Mudblood off his mind, he tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere, and quickly. There was always a little suspicious, uneasy feeling whenever he thought about that dead girl, like she wasn't really gone, but hiding just around the corner to jump out and attack him in revenge for the times he had attacked her.

_It's something Granger would've done_, he mused to himself. Thinking of Granger made his thoughts wonder, and soon, the image of her naked torso was on his mind, and he couldn't help but drift off into a dream-like state where he could see much more of her…

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he jumped up from the seat he was sitting in. She was _dead_, and he _should not_ be fantasizing about a dead girl, plain and simple.

Especially not a Mudblood, either.

He pushed all form of thought about the late Head Girl from his mind and walked out of his chambers. On his mind, he had every intent to find that Cassidy girl; now _she_ was alive, and he would take every delight in fantasizing about her, and with pride!

He had a feeling he would find her in the library, and he actually did. She was curled up on the floor by the roaring fire, but instead of letting her eyes rip across the page, she was staring into the dancing flames, her eyes cast in shadow.

When Draco shut the door, she started and looked over for this source of noise. She gave him a hesitant smile to the hungry gleam in his eyes. He smirked back at her, and slowly made his way over.

She stood, brushing herself off and shutting her novel. She placed it on the nearest surface, and sat down. He dropped into the couch, settling himself, and looked over at her with a contented air about him.

"Why are you in here so often?" he asked, breaking the silence that had been thickening with tension.

She cast her eyes around the room a moment before answering. "Well," she answered, "I've got nothing better to do, and if I wandered about this mansion, your mother would be furious with me for getting lost." There was a slightly nervous chuckle from her throat.

"Hmm," he agreed, looking around too. "Since I've lived here since I was born here, so I know the Malfoy Manor from front to back." She nodded after a moment, finding nothing else to say in response to this.

"Would you like a tour?" he inquired suddenly.

Without waiting for her to answer, he got up, taking her hand and pulling her swiftly to her feet. She gave a little "oh!" of surprise, before allowing herself to be pulled along after him. He turned, still pulling her a long, and winked, a suggestive look lingering on his face.

It sparked her curiosity, but she had a feeling that this tour of the Manor would turn out to be particularly eventful.

_-x-x-x-_

It took nearly two and a half hours to tour the house and the estate completely. They rather skimmed everything, actually, because if Draco had shown her every little detail, the two of them would've been touring until midnight.

He did not go far into the gardens, but merely brought her to the back courtyard and to the edge where the walls gave wall to miles of open, rich green fields. On the horizon, she could just spot trees lining the grass, and far out into the distance the meadow rose up to a singular, humungous tree. She would look forward to going about by herself and examining those later on.

In the manor, Draco did not show her the third floor or the basement and dungeons. They were off limits, apparently, despite the fact that Draco did not state it. He showed her the main hallways and all the good shortcuts (she did not doubt at all that she would forget them in an instant) and where the best views were in the manor. From the highest spots in the mansion, you could see water very far off. Draco told her it was a man-made great lake… but it was invisible to Muggles, since it was made by magic.

Now he was showing her what he considered the best part of the house: _his_ chambers. So far, nothing strange had happened, and Cassidy wondered if she was just paranoid about thinking Draco would pounce on her like a cat would to a mouse at some random moment.

Smirking, he opened the snake-headed doors and revealed to her a short hallway, before leading her to the next biggest pair. There were two other sets of doorways, and she wondered where they led to, but Draco answered her thoughts almost as if he could read her mind.

"Those to the right lead up a different corridor to the Tower Library, and this one on the left is a guest bath and loo. These main doors are to _my _bedroom. Would you like to see it?" There was something about the tone of voice and the faint, but still evident smirk on his face as he said it. Was he planning his ambush there?

Cassidy gave a little shrug, and followed him in. For any other girl, they could spot this as in invitation to do something _other_ than gaze at his room, and Draco knew this. However, Cassidy did not, so she had no idea she was walking into his trap.

His room was decked in silver, gold, black and green. It was large, bookcases lining the walls and a magnificent bed pushed up against the wall. A fireplace was to her right, sofas crowding around it, and to her right was a tall gothic window, a plush seat beneath it.

The door clicked shut behind her, slowly, softly, and suddenly the hairs on her neck stood. She turned around to face Draco abruptly.

His hands were clutching the door handle behind his back, and he was leaning on the soles of his feet. His brow was raised, suggestive, and his eyes glittered with impatience.

She had a sudden urge to get out of his rooms and do something that meant moving away from him.

"Erm, shall we go look at the library? The Tower one?" She was nervous, and her hands twisted at her waist.

His lips twitched into a smug grin. "Why would you want to leave? I'm perfectly content in here... with _you_." He pushed himself off the door and took a few slow steps toward her.

_Oh no_, she thought to herself, and in a rush, side-stepped him and jumped for the door.

In a second, he had caught her around the waist and pinned her against the wall, his fingers holding her hold. His mouth was near her neck, and she could feel her heart rising in her throat, her body suddenly much more aware of the inches that separated them.

He gave a triumphant little chuckled and lowered his mouth to her ear, grazing the edge with his teeth. "Tell me, why are you so eager to leave me?" he whispered smoothly, and let out a slow, long breath against her neck. She stiffened when his mouth brushed against her skin.

"What are you doing?" she stammered out, her hands leaving their petrified state and trying to push him away. This was in vain, and apparently let Draco shift to a much comfortable place because in the next moment, he was flush up against her, his hands crawling up her back and his lower body pushed up against hers in a rather evocative way. His nose was brushing hers, and his breath tickled her lips.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," he purred, and in a solid movement clamped his mouth down on hers.

For a moment, she did not move; her body was tense, her muscles seizing up, one by one, before she registered what was happening, and she lifted a swift knee to his groin.

He gave a yelp, falling backwards and clutching his thigh, stumbling over.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he cried at Cassidy.

"What's wrong with _me_?" she yelled back, outraged. "What's wrong with _you_! You just attacked me and started _kissing_ me!"

"Well what did you expect me to do?" he said, exasperated. "I invited you into my _bedchambers_, does that not imply _something_?"

"I hardly _know_ you!" she burst out.

"So what? The ideal appealed to me, and surely it did to you too!"

She scoffed. "I've known you for not even a _week_, Draco! I don't want to start frenching you two seconds after I shake your hand!"

"Oh come _on_, I've been giving you looks this entire time! You think I'm handsome, and surely the thought of snogging me has drifted across your mind. Admit it, it has!" he shot back smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

She gaped at him, her hands twitching and out in the air. "That's a lie!" she cried. "A damn lie! You're a liar!"

"How am I a liar?" he demanded, switching moods abruptly.

"You lied about your arm! A hippogriff didn't attack it, and that was a _pathetic_ cover-up, Draco! Look up your facts next time."

"What a load of shit," he said coldly. "You can't even prove that."

"I can! If a hippogriff had even given you a minor injury, the wounds would be a lot shallower, and would be much more distributed! The same thing goes for a bad wound too, except it would go even deeper. A hippogriff _clearly_ could not have done _that_ to your arm," she stated, crossing her arms and staring back at him.

_But if a hippogriff didn't do it, then…_

She could recall listening to Lucius' and Draco's fights early, and some exact phrases of theirs. Lucius mentioned Quidditch, and Draco brought up something about a knife…? But then it made sense to her suddenly; the under implication, the knife! A hippogriff hadn't made that clean of a wound, a _knife_ had! So maybe _Lucius_ had hurt Draco, and that would explain why the young Malfoy was so angry towards his father!

"_Your father_," she breathed out after a moment. He looked shocked.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

"Your father stabbed you! He did that to you, not a hippogriff!" she shouted at him, heart racing. The rush of adrenaline poured through her; she had figured out _something_ that had happened, and all so quickly! It excited her.

"You damn liar! How could you say an animal did that to you when a _parent_ did? How can he be so cruel?" she exclaimed. "Why would you even hide that? Especially from your mother when she loves you so much?" That last phrase was on a whim, but she could see it struck a cord.

"You dirty _little_—"

"It's horrible, Draco!" she accused him.

"Oh, _I'm_ horrible?" he snarled. "At least I didn't murder my own goddamned _parents_!"

"_What_!" she gasped.

"Oh, you didn't know?" He laughed cruelly at her, his smooth composure completely evaporated. "They wiped your mind because you were so intent on becoming powerful so you could take over, that you killed anyone who got in your way, even your own two _parents_!"

She gaped at him, her eyes brimming with unshed emotion. She couldn't believe something as preposterous as that, it was _terrible_ for him to say something like that! But all at once, the nightmare she could vaguely recall poured before her eyes like a mist, and she terrifying visions of screaming and green light filled her mind… and she knew what he said was the truth.

"No," she choked out.

"Yes!" he spat, triumphantly. "You killed them slowly and slit their necks! And so many others! You know what mass destruction in Poland? It was a revolt led by _you_, you filthy little murderer!"

"It's a lie!" she whispered, shaking. She was stumbling and reaching blinding for something to anchor herself onto to keep from falling into the painful memory again.

"And you killed everyone else! They all died at your hands, and they couldn't even remove the blood from you until weeks afterwards! The Ministry was going to kill you in your state, but _my_ parents had the will, and it was _our_ decision. Now you're stuck here in _my_ manor, living with the people that your dead parents trusted the _most_!" he yelled at her furiously.

"I couldn't have killed them!" she pleaded to him, twisting her hands around and trying to push back the tears that had suddenly overwhelmed her. "I just _couldn't_. They were my _parents_."

"Well that's just too damn bad. You killed them anyways."

_-x-x-x-_

Christmas went by in a blur; hundreds of presents, all marked Draco, and perhaps one little thing (another dress) for Cassidy herself from Narcissa, which was rather blander than anything Cassidy had worn so far. However, the blur of pine and foil and cheer mixed all together and left her in a confused mess… she did not enjoy her first Christmas with the Malfoy's very much.

Especially with Draco _and_ Lucius sending her dirty looks every two seconds.

Break was over, and Draco had left. There was a _lot _of hostility between them now, the same amount, if not more, between father and son. But now that Draco had gone, Cassidy sensed that anytime Lucius was home, his anger would be directed towards her.

Cassidy wondered what would've happened if she had just let Draco kiss her instead of pushing him away and trying to keep her dignity. But every time the scene played through her head with her very own alterations, the screams of her parents' death at her hands echoed through her mind, Draco's voice deep and harsh, and she could barely push the tears away.

She was sure that when he came home for Easter holidays or for the summer after his graduation, he would still hold a lasting grudge on her. If this was what was to happen, she would be sure to apologize. With lessons with Narcissa that were going to continue, she couldn't vent out her frustrations on a book all the time, and perhaps having him as companion would be a good thing. A _very_ good thing.

And in time, it would. But for now, since he had left, things would go steadily downhill. Lucius would, in turn, shift all attention towards her, and would not be kind in the least about it. It was time to show her the lowly position she was in, and only the highest dose of pain and humiliation could show her such.

But for now, she had to wait. Her fate was coming quicker, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

_**-  
-x-x-x-  
-**_

**Author's Notes**: Mwahah! It's finally done! I'm sorry that took such a long time, but I've been working on it for a while and I finally had a good inspiration to finish it up! Things are going to get violent in the next chapter, and from then on, it's mostly happenings between Cassidy and Lucius for a _long_ while, maybe 7 or so chapters, maybe even up to 10. But I hope you enjoyed this read!

**Gods, this took too long! Please kill me the next time I haven't updated for over two months, instead of this hideous five or six! I hope this made up for the wait!**

I thank you all for the reviews I've gotten so far! Please please PLEASE **review **this time too!


	7. Her Rightful Place

**Disclaimer**: I do not own 'Arry Potter, just this plot AND Miss Cassidy Valeska, a few well kept secrets, and the hot and sexy Troy Malfoy. I really would like to buy Draco too, but you know… he's worth more than I have.

**Okay! This is the chapter you've been waiting for!** A lot of you have said "Where's the action in here?" and went all pissy on me… okay, maybe like, TWO PEOPLE, but HERE IT IS. _This_ is where things get sticky and her life goes EMO! YEESS. This is where I have fun… as weird as it sounds…_  
_

_-x-x-x-_

**Chapter summary**: With Draco gone, lessons with Narcissa and absolutely nothing to do otherwise, all Cassidy can do is sulk around in the library when she can, musing on the encounter she had with Draco over vacation. But when she hears and important conversation, spies an important message from a mysterious falcon, and sees the blueprints it bears, Lucius Malfoy gets angry, _very_ angry. With new punishments in store and with the master of the House "working" out of his home, Cassidy learns why keeping it all inside was so important… even if it means her own death.

**House of Drawn Shades  
By Darkwing731  
-**  
((--Chapter Seven--))  
Her Rightful Place

_And in time, it would. But for now, since he had left, things would go steadily downhill. Lucius would, in turn, shift all attention towards her, and would not be kind in the least about it. It was time to show her the lowly position she was in, and only the highest dose of pain and humiliation could show her such._

_But for now, she had to wait. Her fate was coming quicker, and there was nothing she could do to stop it._

It was only a week that had gone by, a week in which Cassidy gazed at pages and pages of books but took in not a single word. A week where all she did was contemplate Draco's actions and his angry words, the way he seemed to despise his father so and love his mother (though subtly) unconditionally. A week where Cassidy questioned herself.

Draco had kissed her, _kissed_ her. She was stunned that he would come onto her like that, so straightforwardly, so _soon_, but he had, and she had been _outraged_. But _why_? _Why_ was what made her think, what made her wonder what was so bad about Draco, why she shouldn't just _let_ him kiss her.

_Dignity_, her mind huffed angrily. _It was dignity_.

But was it?

Cassidy, when she first met Draco, seemed to be familiar with him already, as if she _knew_ that he was smooth, clever with his words and quick-witted. She thought that perhaps meeting him would make an everlasting impact just by _looking_ at him, but she seemed to already _know_ him, to already recognize his face.

Was it his parents? Draco had the exact facial build as Lucius, it seemed, but he had Narcissa's shapely lips and eyes, however silver they were.

But _still_, he might've inherited Lucius' and Narcissa's features, but just because she knew that did not mean that she would know _him_. She knew what he looked like; there was no doubt in her imagination, nothing to change, nothing to ponder about, because a week seemed to be long enough for her to remember every shape, every contour, every curve, every _feature_ that he could hold.

She was almost positive that she had known him before she had woken up. But Draco had no idea who she had been, so how in the _world_ did that add up? His face and attitude was _so familiar_ that it bothered her to a point where she would do nothing but scowl for minutes on end about it. She _knew_ him, plain and simple.

She just didn't _know_ how she could've.

And thus started her personal mystery of figuring out her memory and scanning every bit of it for Draco Malfoy.

_-x-x-x-_

"Yes?" Cassidy asked politely, looking up from the pages of her book.

Narcissa was hovering over her, her blue eyes narrowed in a kind of condescending contempt. She made a little impatient noise, and Cassidy immediately corrected her mistake.

"Yes _ma'am_? Is there anything I can do for you?" Even at the fact that Narcissa still looked unsatisfied with her polite words, Cassidy felt the urge to roll her eyes greatly; there was _no satisfying_ this woman!

"I wasn't aware you were a servant, girl," Narcissa answered her coldly. "You do not _ask_ to do something, but instead you are _told_, and you do it. You are _not_ a House-Elf, and degrading yourself as such implies that your life demands you to act that way. And thus saying, it is insulting the Malfoy name."

Confused, Cassidy continued to look silently up at Narcissa, clouded thoughts fogging her brain. Although the words of the Malfoy wife made sense, they seemed stitched with dangerous insinuations, and the young girl had no idea what she meant by it.

"Now," Narcissa started. "I came here to inform you that I'll be continuing with my lessons with you in an hour or so, and later this week, my husband will also tutor you."

Arching an eyebrow, Cassidy asked why. "I mean," she said hastily. "What for? Why have another tutor me if you already are?" There was a tense silence, and Cassidy added "Ma'am?" rather awkwardly.

"Academics… and other things," Narcissa said slowly, a hand placed on her slender waist, and the other under inspection; Cassidy thought this action of Narcissa's was in vain, or to cover up for her own confusion because the Malfoy had perfectly manicured nails.

"What do you _mean_, other things? What sort of other things?" she asked Narcissa suspiciously. What else could be taught except for the (rather stupid) things Narcissa trained her in?

Narcissa continued to examine every inch of her perfect nails, while at the same time Cassidy noticed the very faint line deepen in her forehead, as if in confusion. This caused the girl to stare suspiciously at Narcissa, thinking quickly herself.

What did she know about Lucius Malfoy? He was married to Narcissa, had a son named Draco (who seemed to know his way with the witches), was immensely wealthy and powerful, and overall, despised Cassidy for absolutely no reason, but seemed to think her a walking plague.

So, if he was wealthy, why not _hire_ a tutor to teach Cassidy instead of wasting his _own_ precious time (Merlin knew he was going to blame it on her when they started anyways!) with his own life? And why teach her himself when he bloody _hated_ her?

Now, she thought, putting aside all of these very obvious things, there was something that was actually more important than _why_ he wanted to teach her: _what_ he was going to teach her.

_Academics?_ The thought did not sound very promising, or very authentic. What could be taught to the girl? She wasn't _stupid_; she surely didn't need to be taught any schoolwork.

_But then what?_ The question echoed the cavern of her mind. What could Lucius be educating her about? Something for the future? More about the Malfoys, so she wouldn't be so clumsy, such a screw-up?

_No_, she thought firmly to herself. _If he's got to do it himself, it's got to be something extremely important to him… or to me, for me. But what?_

"I don't _know_ what other things, I didn't ask," Narcissa snapped, extending her hand and admiring the shine of her nails. Cassidy started, breaking out of her reverie, and looked back up at Narcissa. She was tempted to ask that, maybe, _possibly_, could Lucius be _training_ her for something, rather than _teaching_ her?

_It cannot be what I'm thinking of, but something much bigger than I imagined_, she mused. It was not memorizing spells and recalling dates, but something that had to be more vital than that… but she could not fathom what it could be.

"Are you sure its _academics_?" Cassidy questioned slowly, hoping she could imply without seeming to be. "Could it be, I don't know, something other than what I could learn in school?"

Cassidy dropped her eyes, knowing her words were too blunt, and that Narcissa would pick up that she was implicating something other than, well, _academics_.

Narcissa's eyes were narrowed when Cassidy returned her gaze. "What exactly do you mean?" the woman asked sharply.

_Look at the corner you're in_, her mind moaned. "I err, I meant that, well, I'm not _stupid_, I don't think I'd need a tutor for schooling, or—or anything," she answered anxiously, hands twisting the hem of her dress. _Now_ she had to answer Narcissa, who would nit-pick every single word she said until she discovered the answer.

"So? You've only gone through _six_ years of schooling, not the required seven. He _will_ be tutoring you in academics, as well as other things. Things that you have no right to question about, _understood_?" she growled.

…Or maybe Cassidy _wouldn't_ have to sit through a nervous interrogation, for it seemed that Narcissa sensed the direction of the girl's thoughts, and did not want to tread into that territory.

Narrowing her eyes at the girl, Narcissa drew her wand in a fluid motion and held it, letting the tip rest in her opposite palm. Cassidy glanced between Narcissa's unreadable face and the wand nestled in her hands; what would be happening today?

"Now moving from Lucius to myself, I've decided that since training you in miscellaneous subjects in no particular order is not the proper thing to do, I've created a schedule. I decided that I'll be educating you in six mandatory subjects: dining, speech, fashion, dancing, music, and if I feel as if I'd like to give up my Saturday afternoons, miscellaneous things," Narcissa listed in a drawl, sounding extremely bored at having to explain.

"Well," Cassidy hesitated, not exactly sure whether her response was to be positive, or negative, or questionable. "How—how long are these tutoring sessions, exactly?"

"12:30 after lunch until 5 o'clock before dinner. You'll have one 20 minute break 'round 2:30. The rest of the day, and before we start, belongs to Lucius and _his_ training. Some days we may agree to alternate and you shall belong to myself or to him all hours until time to retire," she drawled, both hands delicately on her waist, her thin eyebrows arched superiorly.

"Alright," the girl agreed quietly, still confused. A thought occurred to her: "But what are the hours I train with Lucius—" Narcissa started in fury and opened her mouth to snarl at Cassidy's great error, but she corrected herself hastily; "—_Mr. Malfoy_, I mean. What are _his_ hours if I spend the majority of the day with you?"

"I'm not aware of _his_ schedule yet, but I can deduce that it would be relatively early, and proceeding when I'm done with you," she sighed, clearly bored. Cassidy frowned at the woman, but asked nothing more.

Narcissa's lessons would take up most of the day, leaving the precious few hours of daylight to Lucius. But at this time of year, sundown was round 5 or 6 o'clock, near the time Narcissa's teachings ended. Would Lucius stand to train in the dark? And if he actually _would_, how long into the night?

Wait, did she say relatively _early_? That meant that not only would Lucius handle the night, but the morning too? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure if she really even wanted to know. If Lucius Malfoy could only have a few hours into the dark, then he would take all the daylight and the morning twilight too… and only Merlin knew how many hours _that_ was.

"Now, since today is Wednesday, I'll be starting you on fashion. Now, first I had only introduced speech and dining to you, partly because they were mandatory to learn quickly, and relatively easy to teach," Narcissa drawled. "But because I will have your _undivided attention_—" Cassidy looked up from her book and at Narcissa innocently; "for multiple days on end, you should pick up these skills, and enthusiastically so.

"And I warn you, it will not be easy, not at first. Not in _anything_ I will teach to you will you automatically know what you're doing and do it with grace. You must learn, remember, _and practice_ the basics, which vary to numerous different things. Every one of them will be difficult to remember, but with the circumstances you will be under, you _will_ remember them," she told Cassidy, somewhat grimly.

The slightly ominous attitude changed abruptly when Narcissa clapped her hands sharply, barking "Up! Get up!" at Cassidy, who hasted to get out of her chair. She felt very awkward, somehow, standing in front of the elegant Malfoy woman.

"_Fashion_ is something that can tell you literally_ hundreds_ of different things about a person. It can tell their wealth, their status, their popularity, their fashion _sense_, and other significant facts about them," the Malfoy listed. "Firstly, I think I'm going to test you a bit because _clearly_ you have no sense in fashion at all, and if you do, I would like to know about it."

"Alright," Cassidy agreed slowly, not particularly sure what was going to happen.

"Tell me, what kinds of shoes can you wear with trousers?" Narcissa asked delicately.

There was a long silence in which Cassidy racked what little knowledge she had of _fashion_; how in the _hell_ would she know what kinds of shoes to wear? Why in the hell would she _care_ what kinds of shoes she could wear? Really, it made no sense to the girl, but Cassidy knew that if she provided a wrong answer, the Malfoy wouldn't be too happy with her.

"All—all kinds?" she responded cautiously, cringing when Narcissa glared at her.

"Certainly _not_! There are many different aspects to consider before choosing. If the trousers are long, then _perhaps_ any kind is alright," she snapped. "It still depends on the color, the style, the place you are attending, and who will be in attendance. If you plan to do a lot of moving around, then that should be an influence on your choice."

"Oh," Cassidy muttered, embarrassed at how easily Narcissa corrected her, how much more she knew. The girl knew for sure that she would _never_ let Narcissa beat her so easily again; she would _study_ before her lessons the next time.

"Don't you see, girl? There are _so many_ different aspects to consider for _anything_ you do, that every step that you take must be planned with painstaking care or you have set yourself up, walking straight into the Chimera's den. You _cannot_ be ignorant about anything… it will do you great harm if you are," the woman warned ominously.

"Even with _fashion_?" Cassidy asked incredulously, and knew a split-second too late that asking in disbelief was a _huge_ mistake.

Narcissa slammed her hand down on the table, the _crack!_ echoing so sharply that Cassidy jumped. Narcissa glared at her, her perfect, shapely face twisted up in fury.

"_Stupid girl_!" she shrieked so loudly that Cassidy threw her arms up in defense, startled. "Have you not learned _anything_ from what I have taught you? You _idiot_, I cannot _believe_ that you, as determined as you are, would be as pathetic to _test my limits _by asking the obvious!"

"I—I—" Cassidy stammered, shocked and at a loss for words.

"Narcissa, what's all this yelling for?" inquired a silky voice. Both girls turned to the source of the voice, and Cassidy felt her heart drop a little in worry at the sight of Lucius.

"_Her_!" Narcissa screeched. "That _idiot_ girl! I can't _stand_ her!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger at Cassidy.

"Calm _down_ Narcissa, no need to throw a fit over nothing. It can be taken care of," he assure lightly, taking his wife in his arms for a moment.

"No I will _not_—" Narcissa snapped, but Lucius shushed her.

Cassidy was too bemused and mesmerized at the kind behavior of Lucius Malfoy to notice him approaching her. When she did, he had grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and started _dragging_ her towards the Library doors.

"_Hey_!" Cassidy protested, struggling. "I'll leave myself, but just please let go of me!" she cried, very uncomfortable. He had the cloth of her collar fisted so tightly that she was nearly being strangled, and the steady loss of light-headedness was preventing her from getting to her feet, _therefore_ preventing her to stop the strangling.

Lucius paid no attention to her, and when he got to the doors, he wrenched them open and threw her so harshly out that she slammed against the opposite wall, bending her arm at an odd angle. The pain that consumed her limb did not allow her to notice the sharp slam of the library doors.

The little bolts of pain subsided eventually, but still, there was a dull ache flickering through her nerves that made her cringe each time she felt it. Cradling her arm, she pushed herself from the wall, and after throwing an angry glance at the library doors, she set off in search of... well, something. Chances were, she would get lost. She would settle for the main foyer, or the ballroom, or that little tea parlor or something.

Her mind set off in a storm, not paying attention in the least to where her feet were guiding her, but to the little details that her mind provided, the ones that could be clues, hints, secrets to what was so important. Of course, what was important to her, at the moment? She wanted to figure out what influenced Lucius to make the decision to teach her himself, instead of hiring a tutor. She wanted to find out what made the father injure his own son. She wanted to find out what they had been implication, the secret under the veil they wore.

She was nearly desperate to know, but what clues did she have? Nothing, except that Lucius had _stabbed _his own son, and even still, Draco had covered it up, claiming it to be a Hippogriff injury. And his mother actually _believed _that? Even Narcissa, as prissy as she was, could've caught the anger between father and son.

_Unless they're like that all the time... that way, she would have paid no attention to it at all!_ Cassidy sighed, dropping and bending her arm to see if the pain had gone away.

Abruptly her arm set on fire, and with a surprised gasp, it bolted down her arm in feathery patterns and set her fingers aflame.

"What in the hell?" she cried, waving her hand about, hoping to cool it down. It was no use, and just as well, because her other hand was just as charged up as its partner.

Clenching her fingers in pain, she pressed her hands between her knees, squeezing hard, willing to try anything that would stop the sudden bout of fire. Both hands were hotter than ever, each tip set aflame more than the rest. Pain jolted up and down her arm in bolts, setting her nerves up in a flurry of panic. She dropped to her knees with a tense cry of pain as the fire suddenly struck down her spine, rendering her defenseless. Her hands were taut and claw-like, the ridged tendons abnormally large and strained.

A growl of suppressed pain rose in her throat, and she fought it with all the concentration she had, trying to focus on keeping under control as the fire gripped her spin and nerves, forcing her body to twitch randomly and twist more fire into her bones. It stumbled out of her throat in a hoarse cry, and she slammed down her hands to the expensive carpet, gripping the little loops of fine material, wrenching them out as her body seized up again.

She tumbled over as her body was set into another painful dose of fire, and she slammed into the wall. She wailed out, clutching what she could of the paper, and pulled her body up slowly, stopping as she fell and stumbled as she fought what was overcoming her.

"Help," she managed to croak out. "House—elf—_anyone_—_please!_"

Her pained begging, although weak and very faint, did not go unnoticed. There was a crack, (_oh, the heavenly sound_) and a house-elf was suddenly standing before Cassidy.

"Is Miss alright?" the elf squeaked.

"No," she choked out. "Water—ice—_anything cold_."

"Yes, Miss. Winnie will return shortly Miss," the elf squeaked, and dissolved into air again with a sharp crack. Cassidy gasped as fire pervaded her lungs, rising up in her throat, but it died only a moment later.

Another sharp crack echoed, followed by two others. Three house-elves, together holding a giant bucket, looked uncertainly at Cassidy. She beckoned them with difficulty, and when they were close enough, she plunged her arms all the way until they were crushed by the bottom.

The sudden freezing water against the blazing hot of her arms caused her muscles to freeze and numb up, and she sighed, lured into false relief. The cold, however, did not stop it. The fire flared much harder, as if determined to sting even worse now that she had tried to subdue it, and she shrieked when the water started boiling, despite being nearly frozen only minutes before.

She snatched her hands out of the water, the house-elves darting away from it and standing before her gingerly. Her hands stung like salt on an open wound, and she shook them furiously, stressed, hurt tears swelling in her eyes.

"Can we do anything more for you Miss?" one of the three elves squeaked. Cassidy shook her head, biting her lip to keep from sobbing in frustration at the odd behavior of her body.

"No, thank you," she managed, wringing her hands about.

"We is welcome, Miss. T'was a pleasure to help, Miss," they squeaked, and they disappeared as soon as they had arrived.

_Great_, Cassidy thought miserably. The pain had dimmed, oh yes, but now it was throbbing like a fresh bruise, and she was stuck nursing it until the throb was faint enough to ignore.

She shifted back and crawled to the wall, placing her back against it and staring down at her hands in wonder. What the _hell _had provoked the sudden fit of fire on her hands? What sort of function in her body could even _do_ that? It was understood that twitching and stabbing pains could occur randomly, and more severe pain when the body was sick or injured, but for God's sake, nothing like this had ever happened to her before!

_Nothing?_ The whispered echoed her mind, and she narrowed her eyes in thought. Her eyelids fluttered closed… and she _remembered_.

_She was still unconscious even as she fought desperately to get away from the pain. Searing, blinding pain had slowly consumed her fingertips, washing over her hands in threads of agony and delicately working its way up her arms in feather-like strokes. Her fingers clenched, but they felt as if thumbtacks were being forced on every inch of her skin. Her body was numb._

Cassidy opened her eyes with a startled gasp, her lungs suddenly devoid of any air. She sucked in her breath, _hard_, and realized it had happened once, _only_ once before.

When she woke: she had such a clouded memory of her awakening, what had happened around her, _why_ it had happened. All she knew… the pain she knew then, it was worse, a _thousand_ times worse. It affected not just her fingers and arms, but her whole body. Everything in her skin and flesh and bone. All of it.

She knew what it was now. The pain that had suddenly swallowed her today was some kind of aftermath, or some kind of continuation of what had happened then. So violently it had taken her, scarring her memory, despite her efforts to recall just the tiniest detail. She could remember the whole thing, she _knew_ it all, but she did not know the reason. And what could it be?

Her eyes slowly slid shut, as if falling on their own will, and she was sucked into something that was no quite a part of her.

…_Pain seeped through her veins and showered her with random hot pangs through her arms and fingers. She was drifting in and out of the terrible pain, and each time her fingers twitched she was more acutely aware… the throbbing grew horribly intense in her palms and fingertips._

"_Stop it_!" she yelled suddenly, and was startled at the hoarseness of her own voice. She sucked in a shuddering breath, her body trembling, and clutched the wall behind her. She felt as if something was missing, something that was terribly important but something she would never understand, when she realized what it was: the pain.

The pain had stopped.

Standing, and stretching her cooled fingertips, Cassidy sighed in thought: now she knew what had happened before, what had caused this, but never would she understand what the flashes of images had been about…

Not for another nine years, anyways.

_-x-x-x-_

Breakfast the next morning at 8:30 (_too early_, in Cassidy's opinion) could only be described in one word: unnerving.

Well actually, that wasn't true. It was a tense, silent meal. The house-elves served the food, and when she politely thanked the Elf (Cassidy reasoned with herself that it was the thing to set him off) Lucius was _furious. _He said nothing, but as soon as the words slipped from her mouth, the Malfoy positively _radiated_ with fury.

She knew that he was disgusted and livid at her actions because she had glanced at him, just looking around the room for something to occupy her empty mind, and his enraged, silver eyes pinned her down.

She didn't quite understand why Lucius had to get so mad over a damned _Thank You_, but he had, and undeniably so. She had been polite to a creature that most considered inferior, but not her. They were living beings, they could think, they could create life, they could follow directions and understand things. They were _born_ with the _right_ to respect and equal rights.

And apparently, she was the only one who thought of them that way.

Still, the majority of the meal, Cassidy worried about Lucius' natural anger towards her. She had done nothing, really. There was only one incident, and it was the previous day. It was actually Narcissa's fault, because the woman had complained about Cassidy and Lucius had created a solution: throw the girl out into the hallway without considering the possibility that she would just _leave_ if he told her to.

No, the man was simply blinded by his rage.

Narcissa was silent through most of the meal, understandably. She was reading the newspaper that had come at the beginning of breakfast, and seemed engrossed in the text. Numerous times Cassidy had glanced at the woman to see a line in her forehead deepen in thought.

At one point, she folded the page and flipped to the front, scanning the story. Cassidy caught the bolded letters for just a second before Narcissa dropped the paper.

_Mysterious death of whom?_ Cassidy asked herself, recalling the headline.

"Lucius, what are they doing about the Mudblood now? I heard the Muggle-loving fool is fighting to keep this case open," Narcissa inquired. Cassidy, listening in boredom, did not register the words she had said until a moment after.

"I don't know," he sighed. "No doubt the old man is going to go onto a world-wide crusade, or something equally ridiculous. Really, she's been taken care of, and I don't understand why the _Prophet_ can't let the fact die down," he drawled.

"Do you think they'll proceed to Poland, eventually?" Narcissa asked, skimming over the article again. At the mention of the country, Cassidy looked up.

Draco had said something about Poland, but what was it? …_"You know what mass destruction in Poland? It was a revolt led by you, you filthy little murderer!" _

She blinked at remembering his words, and stared down at her plate, listening intently to the exchanged words.

"They would never be able to identify the link between the Death and the Revolt. They have no evidence," he assured her quietly.

"But what about Gra—" Narcissa started, but Lucius cut her off suddenly.

"Enough, Cissa," he said firmly. At this point, the girl's eyes rose to view their silent exchange: Narcissa opened her mouth to continue, but Lucius gave her a pointed look, his eyes darting to Cassidy for just a second.

A second in which they both realized that she had been listening.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lucius snarled at her, his hands clenched and her jaw taut. Narcissa was glaring at her too, and Cassidy suddenly felt very small

Eyes timidly darting between husband and wife, she shrunk in her chair and dropped her eyes to her plate, feeling as if her listening had been a major intrusion.

Lucius was still glaring at her, she could feel it.

The silence spiraled horribly, and Cassidy tried to ignore the dreadful feeling that suddenly decided to drape itself over her. She shifted the food on her plate, and forced herself to recall other things, not just the fact that she was so angrily hated by Lucius, Narcissa _and_ Draco.

The silence was blissfully broken by a house-elf appearing out of thin air, making Cassidy jump slightly. Humbling the creature approached Lucius.

"Yes? What is it?" the Malfoy sneered.

"A Mr. Nott is here to sees Master," the elf informed him. "He is informing Donnie that he is here because of importance, Master."

Cassidy frowned at the elf, but did not allow Lucius to see her look.

Narcissa looked to her husband. "Theodore? What could he possibly want?" she asked.

"I know what he's here for, don't worry," Lucius replied grimly.

"Well, what is it?" Narcissa asked again, her voice firm and demanding.

"Halloween," he replied brusquely, pushing out of his chair. He threw the napkin that had been tucked into his robes onto the plate. "I'll only be absent a minute, Narcissa. Don't look at me like that," he added indignantly to Narcissa's penetrating look.

Once he left the room, and his footsteps no longer echoed off the marble, Narcissa scowled and threw her napkin down too.

"These men and their damn business," she muttered angrily to herself, storming out of the room after Lucius.

Once she was sure that there was no one near the dining room at all, Cassidy voiced to no one but herself, "Well, that was certainly interesting."

She pushed the food around on her plate and allowed herself to dive into thought again. The only thing that was majorly significant on her mind was the exchange between Lucius and Narcissa. Obviously, the woman was in the dark about _something_, especially with her questioning about Lucius' friend that had appeared.

_Poland_, she thought suddenly. Lucius had mentioned the Revolt, which apparently she _herself_ had led. Now that was a thought hard to believe, but she knew it to be true.

The death, the murder: of whom? And in which way were they connected? Cassidy knew they had something to do with each other because Lucius had said it himself.

_Wait, murder?_ Cassidy frowned at her own thought. It had never been said straight out that it was a murder, but then, why did it feel accurate to claim that it was?

_"… She's been taken care of, and I don't understand why the Prophet can't let the fact die down…"_

Lucius. Lucius had said that, had mentioned that the victim had been _taken care of_, which meant murdered, no doubt. But how would he know that, if the rest of the world believed it to be a death?

_Maybe he had a part in it_, Cassidy thought suddenly. The idea of a man like him helping to murder someone… well, it wasn't a completely surprising thought.

Assuming that Lucius _had_ murdered someone, Cassidy decided she wanted to know _who_ had been murdered. Had there been any clues?

_Yes_, her mind decided instantly. Narcissa said "Mudblood" at some point_. And almost, she almost said the surname. What could "Gra" turn out to be?_

Cassidy said there for a moment, biting her lip and drumming her fingers on the table, thinking harder than she ever could've. She sighed, after a moment, and closed her eyes to focus better.

_"… But I thought it would've been the Granger girl, Lucius."_

Her eyes flew open in realization: _Granger_. The surname of the girl who died was _Granger_.

_Not that it solves a lot_, Cassidy thought wryly. _But what else do I know about a girl named Granger? Absolutely nothing. All I know is that she's dead, and she's Muggle-born._

She opened her eyes again, sighing in frustration, and closed them again. She cupped the tired lids, and another memory of hers entered her mind.

_"…That wand belongs to a girl who is dead…"_

Cassidy had completely forgotten about the wand that she had owned for mere minutes before Narcissa had snatched it away from her. But what the woman had said didn't make sense.

If this Granger girl was dead, and the Malfoys had their wand, Lucius surely had a part in the murder and both Narcissa _and_ Lucius knew more than she did, why the _hell_ wasn't the family being investigated?

_Because they're wealthy_, she thought cynically, frowning as she realized it was true.

She sighed and closed her eyes again. _"… She was on our property last before her death, and her wand had not left the premises… It belonged to her, and now, it belongs to us. Not to you, but to the Malfoy name…"_

So did that mean that Muggle-born Granger had been _murdered_ at the Malfoy Manor?

_That means there must be evidence somewhere in this house, _Cassidy realized, excitement pouring into her.

But then… _"… no, you don't understand, 'Cissa… some last minute changes… couldn't afford to use the Mudblood… understand, don't you?"_

But _that_ fragmented memory implied that the murder had not taken place, as they could "not afford to use the Mudblood." If they had indeed killed this Granger girl, who _else_ could they be talking about?

Comprehension dawned on her, and a terrible thought crossed her mind: _what if I'm Muggle-born too?_

Before she could question herself any farther, there was a loud tapping noise to her left. She started out of her deep thoughts, and looked out the high windows to see a falcon hovering, holding a large bundle of parchment. Cassidy immediately left her seat and opened the window, allowing the bird to fly in.

It perched automatically at the Head chair of the table, its sharp talons gripping the carved wood of the throne-like chair. It opened its beak to Cassidy's curious look and gave a high noise, causing her to blink a few times in wonder.

She moved forward to remove the parchment tied to its claw, but the bird made a menacing peck towards her hand, and she flinched and snatched her hand away. Obviously, the parchment was meant for another.

Deciding it was best to sit and continue her breakfast, she closed the window and moved for her seat. As soon as she sat, however, there was a loud _hoot_ and another loud rapping noise.

An owl was perched on a branch outside, holding a letter in its beak. Cassidy sighed and went to go open the window again. The bird entered, flying a silent lap around the room before it descended near the head chair.

Before she even knew what was going on, there was a loud _squawk_! Shrill, high screams and angry wings reverberated through the room, and Cassidy shrieked and dove for the floor as the fighting birds flew around, circling each other like a courtship dance.

The owl dived for the falcon's chest, and the swift bird moved fast enough to escape injuries, but not fast enough to preserve the parchment it had been carrying. Ripped in half, torn slightly in some places, the bundle drifted slowly through the air, and Cassidy caught it before it could hit the ground.

Placing it on the table, she watched in bewilderment as the birds continued to fight. Feathers flew, high indignant noises following, before the shredded letter fell from the air. The owl swerved up and did a loop, the falcon fast on its tail, and in a deadly chase, the birds pursued each other out into the air.

Cassidy stood silently for a minute, gazing at the spot where the birds had fought and flew away. She frowned, and turned to look at the torn parchment the birds had dropped.

One of them was a large scroll with a bluish tint to it. It had a large grid to it, rectangles and shapes placed neatly over its surface. There was curvy, script writing marking things, question marks and horizontal lines skipping across the page. Circles fell off the paper, and onto another piece of parchment below it.

Cassidy gingerly moved the top piece and looked at the next, which seemed to be only a floor-plan. Frowning, she lifted it and gazed at the next, which was even more detailed than the last.

Placing the blue-print-like scroll of parchment back onto the table, she glanced at the letter for a second, just observing how badly it was ripped, and if anything could be read despite it being shredded so badly.

The blue-print scroll was no doubt more interesting than this letter, so she reached for it again.

Curiosity had certainly gotten the best of her, because she was reading the parchment she had in her hands, looking through it, without thinking of any consequences she might face if she were to be caught. It was invading privacy, reading someone else post.

And it wasn't just _anyone's_ post.

It belonged to Lucius.

Her eyes were glued to the labels on the rectangles; _Elite floor, Initiation Hall, High Torture Chamber…_

_What is this?_ Cassidy asked herself, bemused. _Torture Chamber? What exactly is this a blue-print of?_

Confused, she lifted the letter to her eyes, lowering the blue-print. She only caught a single sentence (_… You know what to do with Granger_) before the (undeniably) worst thing occurred.

The doors to the dining room opened, revealing a bickering husband and wife. Cassidy looked up at the sound, not realizing how badly it looked to see her reading someone else's post.

Narcissa stopped in mid-sentence and gaped at the girl, who was staring back, too surprised at their sudden entrance to move.

"Narcissa? What—" Lucius turned to see what was so horrible that it rendered her speechless, and then he laid eyes on Cassidy.

Only for a moment, his expression was wide and blank with confusion. Then, his eyes narrowed to slits, his lips lifted in a furious snarl, and his face twisted into seething anger.

Cassidy, wide-eyed and gaping, dropped the parchment and backed against the wall as he angrily strode for her. He was absolutely furious, his body tense and ridged with anger, a bestial snarl clawing its way out of his throat, his livid silver eyes pinning her against the wall with all the danger and strength he had within him.

She only managed to blurt "_It was the birds!_" in her self-defense before he struck her so hard across the face she flew back into the wall and dropped to the floor.

Still with shock, she touched her cheek slowly, suddenly feeling the shooting, stabbing pains that were blooming across her face. Blood dripped down her cheek, the open wound stinging fiercely, and before she knew what she was doing, she was fleeing out of the room and down the hall, crying noisily.

The door slammed behind her, and Lucius let out a raw snarl of fury. He stormed for the door to chase after the stupid girl, but Narcissa stepped in his path calmly and gripped his shoulders.

"Get out of the way!" he growled at her. She refused to move, and had a very dry expression on her face. "Do you have _any_ idea how important those documents were?"

"If you get her blood on any of my fine things, you will be in trouble," she warned him. He let out a jagged, raging breath of anger, and Narcissa stepped out of his way.

He grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut, storming up the hallway. His knuckles were ridged and white as he clutched his silver snake-headed cane.

Cassidy, wherever she was, was in trouble.

Dangerous trouble.

_-x-x-x-_

_I deserved it_, she told herself miserably, examining the large bruise that had blossomed across her face. _I read his post. How stupid can I get?_

She sniffed the few stray tears away, and lightly running her fingers over the dark bruise, she discharged a worried sigh. Now that she had gone and done something as idiotic as she had, Lucius would surely have it in for her.

She sniffled one last time, testing the sore tenderness of the bruise, before glaring at herself and exiting the loo. She shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when she had been stupid enough to read his things.

With an anxious sigh, she softly closed the door and ambled slowly down the hallway, thinking darkly of the rage Lucius would surely display when she was in his sight again.

She turned a corner slowly, dragging her fingers along the wall, her eyes cast downward. She became still for a moment, confusion entering her mind when she found herself looking at a pair of very expensive shoes.

She could not control herself: horrified, she looked up into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, murderous and angrier than ever; his teeth were bared, his knuckles taut against his cane.

She let out a squeak of surprise and stumbled back, but in a second he had a vice-grip against her neck and slammed her face-first into the wall. She let out a noise of fright, but it was soon swallowed in the seething bellowing of the Malfoy.

"You _stupid, _foolish piece of _scum_!" he snarled, holding onto her neck even tighter; her body shuddered, unable to move at the shock of the grip he had on her spine. "How _dare _you invade my privacy like that! You've been making stupid mistakes since you first woke up, you cretin! I'm sick of dealing with your idiocy! I've have _enough_!"

He withdrew his hand from her so swiftly, she nearly fell back at the lack of it. Her body was rejoicing at the sudden freedom, but a moment later, it was screaming in pain.

Rearing back his arm, he brought down his cane brutally on her shoulder-blades, so hard and so fast the air sang. The _crack_ that occurred echoed the hallway, drowned by Cassidy's painful shrieking.

She clawed at the wall, burying her face into it, screaming into the expensive paper as he continued to beat her. Little strips of fire rose in her back, purple welts that would not be there for long, areas of pain that would remain pressed into her memory.

Her trembling legs gave way beneath her, and she fell, curling slowly together, crying softly at the horrible pain, pain that was worse than her fingertips on fire, pain that was worse than Narcissa's cuffing, accompanied by angry words.

Pain that was worse than _anything_ she ever could've imagined.

She doubled over, dry heaving and coughing spasmodically when he kicked her swiftly in the stomach. She rolled feebly to her side, desperate to get away from the torture when his toe struck her harshly in the back. For a moment, she was still, her muscles seizing up quickly, an odd sound creeping out of her throat, and her mind wiped totally and completely blank.

The grey seeped into her vision, and suddenly the breath was stuck in her throat, a dry knot that she could not swallow. A desperate noise escaped, followed by the screams that proceeded to get louder. She was being dragged by the crown of her head, and as painful as it was, she could not do a thing about it. Her limbs were still frozen in shock, only able to shift clumsily.

Growling, Lucius came to a halt rather abruptly, staring down at the flight of stairs before him. A cruel smile spread across this face, and without hesitation, he stood back and shoved the girl tumbling down the stairs.

The sensation of flying rose immense fear in her chest, but suddenly she was rolling over and over, edges sinking into her, striking her face and body so quickly that she had no time to scream out. Her legs were tangled, her arms bent around her abnormally as she tried to stop herself, but the only thing she accomplished was forcing herself to summersault down the stairs and fly into the opposite wall on the landing.

Her legs were shoved against the wall, her body resting on her neck and shoulders, before she slumped down, her body sprawled. She was drifting through misty unconsciousness, the searing pain nothing but a sharp memory.

She reached out weakly, trying to pull herself up, away, _somewhere_, but she did not get very far. There was a second of sweet bliss before a strong blow to her temple sent her reeling into darkness.

Lucius glared down at the wounded person at his feet, too disgusting to call a witch, and too hideous to call a female. To him, she was the monster that lurked inside every nightmare, the creature that would destroy them all.

She would not be spared, not in the least. He was going to put her through absolute hell, orders or _not_. If _she_ was here, then he would've made her miserable anyways.

The little wench was going _down_.

He would see to it himself.

_-x-x-x-_

When Cassidy woke, the first thing she realized was the cold. It seeped into her lungs, making them seize up, and her first reaction was to cough.

She stopped suddenly, and a painful noise rose from her throat when her body was seared up in flames. Wounds throbbed, reminders of her punishment for the obvious stupidity she had. All over, tender areas were calling for salvage, but she could not help herself.

Her eyes slid open, dazed and out of focus for a minute, when she realized she was staring into inky darkness. It was a large cavernous room, it seemed, but she could not be sure: she could hardly see anything at all.

She arched, withering on the cold, damp floor, trying to suppress the fierce throbbing that was covering her whole body. She tried to move, but she could not; she tried to call out, but she could not.

Restraints, rusty and unctuous, held her down. Metals links, old and rotting and heavy, clamped onto her wrists and ankles, and surely, around her neck. There was some strong hold around her throat, forbidding her to draw a deep enough breath to rid herself of the light-headed feeling she had. She pulled her wrists, dragging the loud chains around with her, and tried to find some sort of clasp that would release the choking object on her throat.

It was thin, and tough, whatever it was. It seemed to travel around the back of her neck without any indentation or tie that held it all together. The only difference she could feel from the rest of it was in the hollow of her throat.

She ran her fingers over it slowly, concentrating on discovering her release than allowing herself to identify the agonizing pain. She could distinguish nothing at first but a shape; smooth, triangular and small, it was tight and penetrating against her skin, and she thought that perhaps it would be the clasp to release the choker.

She tugged and twisted it around, pushing in certain places and pulling in others, but nothing she did would force it to come undone. It was if whatever choker was on her neck would remain there forever.

There was a noise above her, so sudden that she jumped. Immediately she wished that she hadn't, for the throb that seemed to ache from her heart hurt even worse. Footsteps followed, leisurely and calm, dropping down the stairs high above her.

Fire rose again in her, and all she could do was groan feebly and arch her neck to see who had entered. The footsteps stopped in front of her, followed by an amused noise before a bright light lit up the room.

It was cavernous, she was right. Cobblestones plastered on every inch, shackles hanging in periodic spaces across the wall, multiple doors stationed at the end. The ceiling was dripping, the green fungi that was growing on every niche too moist to hold onto anymore water.

"Do you enjoy it down here, you miserable little wretch?" echoed Lucius' cold, silky voice. Cassidy swallowed the whimper in her throat and glared up at him. "You'd better, because from the way that you act, you piece of filth, you'll be spending all your time down here."

The girl remained silent, but she could not deny the ominous feeling that caused her heart to race.

"Never again, Valeska, will you have the freedom you had before. You are living under _my_ roof, and will obey _every single_ one of my rules. And now matter how hard you may try, nothing you do will be fit to my standards," he drawled, his voice hard and cold.

"There's no doubt in my mind that you've detected the restraint on your neck. It's a collar, and I though it very fitting for you. You're an annoying little bitch and nothing more than a piece of property now," he spat.

"That's not true!" she coughed suddenly, shudders racking her body.

"Oh, it isn't? Then tell me, why are you all tied up like some scrounge picked up off the streets?" he inquired, the cold, feigned curiosity in his voice unnerving.

"Because you tied me up, you murderer," she accused him in a hiss.

Lucius was silent for a moment longer than necessary, and she knew he was trying to pick his next words with painstaking care.

"And what evidence do you have against me, girl?" he growled in a low, quiet voice.

"You killed _Granger_, you plainly said it before," she whispered, eyes narrowed. An odd look came over his face; he looked suspicious of her, scrutinizing her with all the will he had in his body, but still, he looked furious suddenly.

"Things as absurd as that will not go unnoticed in the future. Lying is intolerable, and any punishment I find fit for you is acceptable," he replied quietly. "And you have lied, girl. Now you shall suffer the consequences of your actions."

He drew his wand slowly and held it over her. The cold, deep lines in his face lifted as a cruel smile crossed his mouth.

"_Crucio_!"

Lucius Malfoy was right, and she knew it. Any freedom of speech and of action that she had before she had met him had been taken away. No longer could she imply, no longer could she voice suspicions, not even to herself.

And no longer would she be allowed a mind of her own.

_**-  
-x-x-x-  
-**_

**Author's Notes:** okay, I'm sorry that took so long to update. I've been writing up a storm the last few days though, so I wanted to finish this chapter before I went on vacation again.

Anyway, this chapter is riddled with clues. I hope you find some!

Thank you for sticking with this story despite the long wait for the next chapters.

**Please review!**


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